Cora's Story
by CassSpaz
Summary: - Complete! - How does Umbrella choose it's soldiers? The story of how a young woman's dreams turned into nightmares.
1. Meet Cora

Disclaimer: I don't own any aspects of the Resident Evil universe. Cora Merandez, Amelia Merandez, and Irene Talbot are mine though.  
  
The sun beat down on the rooftops, glinting into Cora Merandez's eyes. Wincing, she raised an arm to shield her vision from the brightness of the sun. Despite the fact that she looked more like her American father than her Mexican mother, she didn't stick out too much in the crowds on the street.  
She absently tossed her long, dark braid over her shoulder as she took a sip on the Coke she had ordered. Soft drinks were less expensive then the water sold around here. Less dangerous, too. She shifted in her chair, watching the front doors of a large, stone building. She had been waiting here for twenty minutes, and according to her boss, the guy that she was waiting for got off work fifteen minutes ago.  
Cora sighed. She didn't want to be doing this. She was young, only nineteen years old. But on the streets of Mexico, she had to learn to provide for her family. Her father was constantly on business trips, her mother had worked in a slaughterhouse for cheap wages until she had injured her lower back, and her younger sister was still going through school. Amelia was only eleven, and a happy child. Seeing how she didn't appear half-American the other kids didn't taunt her as they had Cora.  
Suddenly, the large doors to the building swung open. Cora stood up, pulling a few pesos out of her pocket and dropping them on the table before following one of the men who were part of the crowd.  
Cora hurried after him, easing two of the knives that were hidden from view in her sleeves. She hated this job, really, but how else could she support the Merandez family? She fixated Amelia's face in her mind and pressed on.  
The mark seemed to realize that he was being followed. He glanced over his shoulder and quickened his pace. Cora sighed. This was the worse part. She followed him. Hoping to lose her, he ducked into an alley.  
"Worst mistake you could make, pal." Cora muttered, and followed him. The man was pressed against the end of the alley, shaking.  
"Who are you? Why are you following me?" the man demanded.  
"Mr. Jack Elliot?" Cora asked. She wanted to get this right. She had seen her friends get their pay docked before because they had shot down the wrong man.  
"How do you know my name?" Mr. Elliot shouted. What, did he think that people were going to come running? They weren't. First of all, no one in Mexico cared about their neighbor. They were too busy keeping themselves alive. Secondly, everyone hated the rich, American businessmen who came and sucked workers and money out of the community. Even if anyone noticed, they'd probably smile to themselves and walk on.  
The struggle was quick. Cora slipped out her knives. He managed to deflect one stab with his briefcase, but the other slipped through his throat. Cora winced as he fell lifelessly to the ground, his eyes beginning to glaze over. She wiped her blade carefully on his coat. As she walked away, she made a single nick on her wrist that aligned with seven others. Her eighth kill. Cora didn't know whether she should be proud or horrified.  
Cora Merandez was an assassin, but she considered herself an assassin with morals, thank you.  
  
"Cora's home! Cora's home!" Amelia flung herself at Cora for a hug. Cora's father hated Spanish, so the girls had had to reconcile themselves to using English. It had grown on them, and now they only spoke Spanish when necessary.  
"Hey." Cora said tiredly.  
"Cora, you're bleeding." Amelia said, showing Cora the nick in her wrist.  
"Oh, don't worry about me, I'll be fine!" Cora said brightly, heading into the kitchen. Cora's mother looked worn and tired.  
"Your father will be coming home soon." she said wearily. "Back from Florida, with gifts for all!" she gave a tired laugh. Cora felt a wave of pity. She could almost hear "as if gifts make anything better." tacked onto the end of the sentence.  
"Daddy's coming home?!" Amelia's two braids bounced on her shoulders as she gave a happy bounce. Her large dark eyes - so different from Cora's gray blue eyes - were bright with excitement. Cora's mother cracked a tired smile.  
"Yes, he's now working as an Agent for a pharmaceutical company. Umbrella Incorporated. He's a field agent, whatever that means. He will be here in a couple of days. Now, go wash up and I'll get dinner ready."  
"Yes, madre." Cora and Amelia said politely, and headed off to the washroom. Cora wasn't looking forward to meeting with her father. While her mother knew that she was an assassin, and while Amelia knew that she had some sort of job that was potentially dangerous, Cora's father always chatted about bringing Cora back home to America and giving her 'a proper life'. He spoke of getting her a college scholarship through his new friends at whatever company he was working at.  
Cora scowled as she scrubbed the eight cuts on her arm. She didn't want her father's charity. She could keep up being an assassin. Besides, she couldn't leave Amelia and Mother behind. She wouldn't do it.  
In the middle of the dinner of roast beef, the phone rang. Cora's mother picked it up.  
"Hola." she said politely, then frowned and passed the phone silently to Cora.  
"Hola." Cora said, standing up and walking into the next room.  
"Did you get the job done, Cora?" Cora's boss' voice filtered through the phone.  
"Yes, Mr. Cobley." Cora said politely. There was a short bark of a laugh on the other end of the phone.  
"Excellent." There was the scratching sound of a pen against paper. "September 6th, 1997. Check in the amount of the usual amount to Cora Merandez. I'll let you get back to your dinner, Cora."  
"Yes, Mr. Cobley."  
"Give your family my regards."  
"Of course." Cora muttered. "Good-bye." And she hung up the phone and sat down. The eighth mark on her hand twinged horribly. She was getting closer to getting enough money to let Amelia and her mother live comfortably and being able to fulfill her lifelong dream of seeing the world.  
Cora had no idea that her dream would go horribly wrong. 


	2. Determination

Jobs were being lined up for Cora for the next few months, but it was difficult to try to match up her dream of reaching a set amount of money while juggling her father. Her father had arrived two nights ago, and for someone who was barely around, he was pompous and vain.  
"So, Cora!" he would say at breakfast. "What do you have planned today?"  
"I was actually planning to maybe have lunch at a local cafe." Cora said casually, biting into a piece of toast.  
"Aren't you going to spend some time with your father?" Cora's father asked, slapping Cora on the back in what he thought was a friendly way.  
"Well, I got a job." Cora said cautiously. Cora's mother was watching Cora with a wary eye, and Amelia's eyes were as wide as they could go. Amelia was curious about Cora's job, but Cora never spoke about it.  
"Oh really? What do you do?"  
"I'm a waitress." Cora said, fighting down the urge to say that she killed for a living. Cora's mother turned back to her porridge, and Amelia blinked.  
"I thought you could get hurt at your job!" she protested.  
"Oh, I can." Cora said airily. "Sometimes customers get rowdy."  
"Wow." Amelia was awed.  
"I wish you'd let me take you and the girls back home to America. It's civilized there, and you wouldn't have to let you and the girls use your maiden name. That way we'd be more like a family." Father was saying, but Mother was shaking her head vehemently.  
"I won't have you taking them from their home. They are settled here."  
"At least let me take Cora."  
"No!" Mother flared up. Father fell silent, but he glared at Mother. Cora pushed away from the table with a slight grin.  
"Well I'm just going to go to work then." Cora said, standing.  
"But Cora, don't you want to see the presents that I got you girls?" Father said. Cora sat back down, plastering a fake smile on her face.  
"Presents sound great." Cora said brightly.  
"Yay! Presents!" Amelia said enthusiastically, giving her father a hug.  
"Umbrella is looking for work, Cora." Father said as he stood up. "I bet I could get you a sanitation job or a Extra job there."  
"No thanks." Cora shook her head. How could she see the world locked up inside a stuffy old lab?  
"Your loss!" Father said heartily as he strode down the hall. Mother exhaled, raking a hand through her hair. She cursed under her breath in Spanish and sat down.  
"If he buys you expensive jewelry, please don't wear it in public again." she warned Amelia.  
"I won't." Amelia said sullenly, poking at her eggs. Finally, Father came back.  
"Your mother told me that you've started to collect knives." Father said sternly as he sat down.  
"Yeah. For decoration purposes." lied Cora. Father grinned.  
"Your grandfather used to do that with swords and rifles! It runs in the blood!" Father beamed, but Mother scowled instead. Father took out a wooden crate the size of a shoe box and pushed it at Cora. Cora flipped open the lid. Inside was an enormous ornamental dagger, with gold and rubies in the hilt and a thin, delicate blade.  
"Wow." Cora said, searching for words.  
"She's speechless, she likes it so much!" Father beamed.  
"Right. Well, thanks Dad, but I have to put this away." Cora gave a faint smile, and then scurried away. God, her father was an idiot. Well, at least she could use the small crate to keep all her other daggers in.  
Once she was in her room, she pulled a piece of paper and consulted it quickly. She had a job to do. Mr. Copely had warned her though, this would be a difficult job - chances of getting caught were high. Cora didn't care. The sooner she could leave her mother and sister in comfort, the sooner she could see the world and leave her father behind. 


	3. Caught

You know Cora, there are times when you are a complete idiot. Cora thought bitterly. In her determination to get the cash, she hadn't really planned out the job. So she was stuck outside a large brick house, trying to placate a large, angry dog.  
"Good doggy. Good doggy!" Cora said frantically. The dog growled menacingly. Cora rooted through her pockets, seeing if she had anything to feed the dog. She didn't have anything. The dog seemed to sense that Cora was not only a threat, but she was a threat without food, and lunged at her. Cora flung herself to the side, so that the dog's jaws closed on air instead of flesh. She flung out a hand to desperately search for a weapon or anything. Her hand closed on the ventilation duct cover.  
It was loose, and it came free easily in her grip. She threw the cover a the dog in the hopes of slowing it down and slipped into the vents. There, she took deep breaths.  
"There's a reason why I'm a cat person." she muttered to herself, Her braid was starting to come loose, but there was no time to redo it. If anyone came to check on why the dog was barking at the top of his lungs, it'd be best to be done with the job and out of here.  
Cora climbed though the vents as silently as she could. She was terrified. She had never had a job like this before. It was always just track so-and-so down after work and introduce him to Mr. Dagger. She really was an idiot. She was a teenager, not an infiltrating assassin!  
It was too late to back out now, though. With a sigh, Cora began to squirm her way through the vents without trying to rattle around too much. It was cold in the vents, and Cora was starting to worry about getting lost. Finally, she saw narrow beams of light shining through a dusty vent cover. Freedom! She knocked it down quickly and scrambled into an empty room.  
For a Mexican house, the walls seemed thicker and more well-made than usual. She glanced around, and then slipped two of the daggers out of their hidden spots up her sleeves.  
Cora strode down the hall nervously, trying not to make any noise. She turned around to peer down the hall, when she knocked down a broom that was propped against the wall. It fell with a crack like a gunshot. Cora froze, straining for any sound of activity.  
Then she heard it. Footsteps. Someone was coming. She ducked into a doorway, her breathing quick and shallow.  
"What was that?!" a man's voice said furiously. Cora peeked around the corner. A large, broad shouldered man was glaring at the broom. Suddenly, a scrawny man with a mop of light hair came running up holding the ventilation cover.  
"Look!" the man said simply, extending the ventilation cover. The broad-shouldered man (Cora mentally nicknamed him Angry) glared at the duct cover and then at Scrawny.  
"Someone's in here." Angry growled.  
"You think it's Copley?" Scrawny glanced around.  
"You really think that Copley would do something like this?" snorted Angry. "Copley's a coward. He'd never get his hands dirty if he could help it. It's probably just some fool who Copley bought off."  
Cora began to edge down the hall, so that she was further out of sight. Sweat began to bead on her forehead, and she was positive that Angry and Scrawny could hear her heart beating right out through her chest. It was certainly loud enough.  
"They can't be too far." Scrawny said. "Let's look for them."  
Cora clutched her knife hilts and tensed, ready to lunge and stab the person who came around the corner. Angry stormed around the corner and spotted Cora.  
"Copley, you idiot." Angry muttered around her breath. "Using a little girl to get your dirty work done." he started towards Cora, not spotting the knives in her hand. Cora was furious. A little girl, was she? As if she was no older than Amelia! With a roar of rage, she flung herself at Angry, with a knife ready to pierce his heart.  
Angry caught Cora's wrist. Cora froze out of panic, staring at the large hand enveloping her wrist. She rose her other knife, but he caught her other wrist as well. There was suddenly a painful pressure as Angry squeezed Cora's wrists, and both of Cora's daggers fell to the ground with a clatter.  
"Ow... ow...ow..." Cora whimpered.  
"Alright, girl. How many other daggers do you have?" Angry said. Cora had been told that if she was in this type of situation, say nothing, but the pain in her wrists and the fear in her mind loosened her tongue significantly.  
"F-five." she stammered.  
"Disarm yourself." Angry released Cora, but before she could even think of drawing a dagger from her boot of the nape of her neck, Angry took out a pistol. Cora didn't recognize the make, but she didn't need to know the make of a gun to know that her life was in danger.  
"Right." she gave a quick nod. She drew two daggers from either boot and produced two more from her sleeves. She spread her hands to show that she wasn't hiding anything.  
"And the fifth one?" Angry pressed. Cora scowled, but she reached and pulled out the dagger hidden behind the nape of her neck. She dropped it with the others. Angry nudged the pile of daggers out of Cora's reach with his foot.  
"Are you going to kill me?"  
"We'll see." was what Angry said in response. It wasn't a very encouraging thing to say. Cora swooned on the spot, but Angry seized her upper forearm and began to drag her down the hall.  
"Where are you taking me?" Cora asked. Her voice was shrill from panic. Angry didn't answer. Cora tried kicking him. "Answer me!"  
"Girl, you may be one of Copley's assassins, but that means shit to me." Angry growled, and pressed the gun into the small of Cora's back. "Now, move along, don't talk, don't try anything funny. You got that?"  
"Yes sir."  
"Good. Now, march." 


	4. Interrogation

Cora's entire body was shaking as she was bound to a simply made wooden chair. The gun was still trained on her, and Cora found herself not able to take her eyes off of it. Her life, her dreams could be gone in one simple movement from Angry. She shuddered.  
Attempts to keep her face calm and uncaring were failing miserably. She was chewing on her bottom lips and her eyes were wide and full of terror. Her braid had come undone and her long hair was tangled all the way down to her waist. She also kept on shifting on the chair, and her mind was racing. She was going to die. Amelia would be heart broken. Mother would be inconsolable. Father would mourn so pompously.  
Scrawny seemed genuinely concerned over Cora's fear.  
"She's just a kid, James!."  
"Am I supposed to care?" Angry scowled. "She was sent by Copley to kill us both, I'm sure of it."  
"Let's at least talk to her first, OK?" Scrawny said. Angry grunted his approval.  
"Let's get this little interrogation underway." Angry said sarcastically. "I'm James Strider. This is my brother, Rick. Do you recognize those names?"  
"Yes." Cora squeaked.  
"Oh, really?" a sadistic grin spread on Angry's face. "And where do you recognize our names from?"  
Cora bit her bottom lip so hard that the metallic taste of blood filled her mouth, but she said nothing.  
"Look, Miss..." Scrawny trailed off and looked at Cora expectantly as if he expected her to provide her with a last name. Cora shook her head vehemently. She didn't want to get Amelia and Mother hurt. Scrawny continued his sentence anyway. "Answer the question. Please. We know you're from Copley, so we just want details."  
"My name is Cora." Cora muttered softly. "I work for Mr. Copley, but it's only to support my family! It is! I'm afraid that Amelia will end up like the kids on the street who peddle off fruit. I'm afraid that my mother will never work again. I'm afraid that my father will bring me away from my home and make me go to college." Cora blurted out.  
"Copley sent you here to kill us, didn't he?" Angry said softly. Cora gave a miserable nod. The next thing she knew, her ears were ringing and she was on the floor. The chair had toppled over along with Cora due to the force of Angry punching Cora as hard as he could in the side of the head.  
Cora was mildly aware of the blood spilling out of her mouth, but she was more concerned with the lump on her head.  
"James!" snapped Scrawny.  
"We'll just dump the body. She was going to kill us. We can leave her on Copley's doorstep."  
"We're not killing her, James!" Scrawny said. Cora felt a lurching sensation as the chair was straightened. "You knocked her out."  
"No, she's faking it." Angry insisted. Cora felt a slap, not as hard as the punch but still stinging, on the left side of her face. She opened her eyes. No use getting smacked around.  
"Don't be so rough." Scrawny admonished. Angry ignored him.  
"Good girl." he said softly. "Now. If I kill you, then my brother will be upset. So I'm not going to be the one to kill you."  
"What the hell does that mean?" Cora asked woozily. Angry paused and glanced at Scrawny. Scrawny shrugged apathetically as if to say 'it's out of my hands.' Angry turned back to Cora, this time with a slight sadistic grin on his face.  
"Watch your mouth, young lady."  
"What do you mean?" Cora said, this time more clearly. Angry gave another sadistic grin.  
"It means that you get to live a little longer." Angry finally said. Cora felt a glint of hope. If she was lucky, she might get to escape from this nightmare. What would she do when she got home? She had mentioned Amelia by name, so she would have to warn her family. Maybe America wouldn't be that bad, maybe Amelia and Cora and Mother would be happier there. After all, the way Father spoke about it, it was a paradise. And maybe working as an Extra (whatever that was) for Umbrella would be well paying.  
"You won't kill me then." Cora said, relieved.  
"You'll still die." Angry said. "Just not at my hands." he gave a sly look. Cora chose to ignore that, and she wriggled her wrists inside her ropes and whimpered. "Rick, go call the cops."  
"The cops?!" Scrawny seemed shocked.  
"Why not the cops? You know how they always fool around instead of actually doing their job. They'll be here in half an hour. Giving me plenty of time to question Little Miss Cora over here." he shot Cora a filty look.  
"Can I ... Can I please have something to drink?" Cora said. Her mouth was cottony dry.  
"Get her some juice, Rick." chuckled Angry. "She's no use to us if she can't even tell us anything."  
"Look," Cora said. She pulled the sleeve of her sweater back to reveal the eight nicks. They were rather nasty looking against her tanned skin.  
"What is that supposed to do, convince me that you're not from Copley?" Angry said dryly.  
"Do you know what these are?" Cora asked harshly.  
"No." Angry said.  
"For every person I've killed, I've scratched these into my arm with my knife!" Cora said this furiously. "So don't you dare treat me like I'm some sort of heartless killer, because I'm not!" Cora sniffed back tears. Scrawny came back with apple juice.  
"We should let her go." Scrawny said.  
"No." Angry replied.  
"Why not?" Scrwany seemed agitated as he handed the glass to Cora. Cora drank gratefully.  
"You really want Copley to bring an experience assassin after us?" Angry rolled his eyes, then turned to Cora. "Now. Tell us all you know." 


	5. Pleading

Through the tears and the snivelling and the pleas for mercy, Cora finally managed to get all that she knew about Richard Copley out. Angry punctuated her pauses with encouragement to go on or with angry nods. It was a relief for Cora when Angry finally said:  
"Alright, that's enough then."  
"Thank God." Cora said, taking another draw of the apple juice. There was suddenly the sound of a doorbell ringing.  
"That'll be the cops." Scrawny said. Suddenly, the enormity of the situation crashed down on Cora.  
"The cops?!" she said, startled.  
"Yep, I said I wouldn't be the one to kill you." Angry said casually. "The cops'll do it for you."  
The police in Mexico were notorious for both their apathy and their brutality. Cora let out a shriek as she tried to break out of her bindings.  
"No! No! I didn't kill you, let me go! Please, no!" Cora shrieked. The chair toppled over for a second time, and her head bounced against the floor painfully. The last thing that she heard before she blacked out was:  
"Well, at least that's one complication out of the way."  
  
Cora awoke with a pounding headache and blurred vision. Slowly, she sat up, rubbing her left temple.  
"What... Where am I?" she asked groggily. There was no answer. She began to examine her surroundings. It did not take long for Cora to realize that she was in a jail cell. The walls were thick, gray, unadorned stone, the floor was cold concrete. There was a cot in one corner of the room, and a toilet, sink and mirror on the other side of the room. Instead of a west side of the room, instead of a door, there were vertical and horizontal bars to prevent any escape.  
So. This was how Cora was going to die. Locked up in a prison cell, unawares of the date or the time or how her family was doing. She sniffled, but she refused to cry.  
At least she was alone in her cell. She stood up, letting her hand fall limply to her side. She headed to the door, clutching the thin metal bars of the jail.  
"Hello?" she called. "Helloooo?"  
"Oh. You're awake." a gruff voice said in Spanish, and a guard was at her door.  
"What's going on?" Cora asked. The guard blinked, and she had to remember to speak in Spanish. She repeated her question.  
"You were turned in by James and Rick Strider." the guard said with a slight grin.  
"Damnit." Cora muttered.  
"You'll get one free phone call, of course. And a visit from the mayor sooner or later."  
"The mayor?!" Cora was alarmed. "Why the mayor!"  
"He's made it his plan to rid this village of Copley and his assassins." The guard said. He seemed to be enjoying Cora's discomfort. Cora winced. There was no way that she could stay in Mexico after this if she ever got out of here. Amelia and Madre would be in danger.  
"Don't I get one phone call?" Cora pleaded. The guard hesitated, then nodded. He unlocked the jail cell door and lead Cora down a long hall. Finally, he pointed at a phone that looked like it was going to fall off the wall at any second.  
"There you go." the guard said, sitting down in a rickety wooden chair next to the phone and eyeing Cora as if she would run away. Cora picked up the reciever and dialed a number. It didn't take long for a voice to answer.  
"Hi!" Amelia said.  
"Hey, Amelia." Cora said, trying to sound bright.  
"Hiya, Cora! Daddy wants to know where you are. He wants to take the family out to supper! Oh, and he bought me a really nice necklace!"  
"That's ... great." Cora said. Chances are, she would never see Amelia again. "Can you get Mom?"  
"Yes, Cora." Cora heard the phone set down with a soft clank and Amelia calling mother. Finally, the phone was picked up.  
"Hola." Madre sounded tired.  
"Hi, Mom. Look, I don't have much time, so I can't make small talk." Cora said quickly. I'm in jail."  
"You're in JAIL!?" Mother shouted. Cora winced.  
"Listen. I was caught. Look, get out of Mexico, now. Go to America with Dad. Trust me on this! The mayor's been trying to get a Copley Assassin, and if you think I'm going to get a fair trial, then you're wrong. I might not even get a trial. If I do, I'm guilty for sure. Just get out of Mexico."  
"Father can get people from Umbrella to help you!" Mother cried. "He will!"  
"Fine, fine." Cora said impatiently. "Just get out of Mexico."  
"Don't worry, Cora." Mother consoled.  
"I'll worry if you don't start packing this instant!" Cora exclaimed violently. Suddenly, Father's voice came on the phone.  
"I can't believe you would do this Cora. You're right. You and Amelia have been corrupted enough by the streets of Mexico."  
"I'm not corrupted." Cora growled furiously. "I just worry about Amelia and Mom's safety."  
"Umbrella owes me a favor." Dad insisted.  
"So what? Use it to get a house in America!"  
"We won't need that. Look, I'll see what they can do. They told me that if either of my daughters needed somewhere safe, or a job, then they would give them one - no matter what the circumstances."  
"Fine! Call Umbrella! Just get out of Mexico!" Cora shouted.  
"We will, Cora. We will." Father said. Cora exhaled in relief. Unless if Umbrella could give a job to someone on Death Row, then she was screwed.  
"Time's up." the guard said.  
"Look, I have to go." Cora said. They were probably her last words to her mother. 


	6. Death

Cora had been right in her prediction. There was no trial. The mayor came a couple of days later after this was announced to get some press on the issue. Cora was asleep on the couch when the bright lights and loud chatter in Spanish and English woke her up.  
"No more will Copley trouble our streets!" the mayor exclaimed reverently, waving his arms. "This assassin is only the first of toppling down the empire of Copley assassins!"  
"Mr. Dainn, will this be a long term plan!"  
"Yes it will! I refuse to let these monsters roam our streets further!" Mr. Dainn slammed his fist into the palm of his hand. There was a cheer from the reporters. "In fact, any assassin who is caught will get death!"  
"What about the children! In fact, the girl who has recently been cauptured is only Nineteen years old! Will you sentence possibly misguided or innocent children to death row?!"  
"I will do whatever is necessary to cleanse this town of Copley!" the mayor shouted. Cora felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. Death Row? She wasn't ready to die. She wanted to speak to her family again. She wanted to see the world.  
Cora tuned out the reporters' noise and the mayor's loud voice and lay back down on her cot. Death? She defiantly was not ready to die yet. She was all alone, she couldn't escape. There was no way out, unless you counted the electric chair.  
"No, no, no!" Cora muttered, then sat up. The voices had faded away. Cora was alone again, alone in her living hell. She wondered how long it would take for her to be excecuted. Suddenly, the guard was back.  
"Merandez, your uniform is ready. And you'll have a cellmate soon." the guard opened the door. "The tax cuts make the pairing a little odd, but we have no choice."  
"Okay." Cora hoisted herself up from the cot, her mind still spinning, and shuffled off after the guard. Part of her seemed to think that this was a nightmare, that she'd wake up to find herself back in the room and her arm free of eight little red marks. The other part of her was already calculating a way to get help and coming up with nothing. Altogether, she wasn't quite aware of the enormity of her situation.  
  
Mr. Daryl Jones sighed. His wife, Laine Merandez was in America with his daughter Amelia, but Laine was being very stubborn and petulant lately. Amelia was terrified over Cora's fate. But just because he was Amelia's father and Laine's wife didn't mean he had to let himself be distracted. This meeting with Umbrella was very important.  
"Come in, Mr Jones." the head of the board called. Mr. Jones strode in, making sure that he looked properly important and dignified. Six men all faced him at their desks.  
"Good morning, members of the board." Mr. Jones said. He had prepared this speech so that he could get his way. "Well, as you all know, you all owe me a favour. I've come to collect this favour. My daughter, Cora was corrupted by her living conditions and was forced to take on a job as an assassin. Even now, she sits on Death Row." Mr. Jones shook his head sadly. "Of course, you can use your pull to get her off of Death Row, gentlemen. And that is the favour that I ask for."  
"Right. We can give your daughter a spot on one of our Special Forces teams." one of the board members said.  
"No, I was thinking that she could become an Extra, or perhaps a Scientist."  
The members of the board glanced at each other, when the one in the middle took out a pistol.  
"You really need to learn to show more respect to the members of the board, Mr. Jones." he drawled, when the gun went off. Mr. Jones fell to the ground with a look of surprise on his face, and a bullet in his brain. "Give that to the scientists. They've always complaining about poor samples." 


	7. Ruben Salven

The bright yellow baggy jumpsuit that Cora had been given was itchy. Cora scratched irritably. The material felt coarse and roughly made. She stepped outside the changing room. Another guard was there.  
"All right, Merandez." he sneered in Spanish. "Back to your cell." Cora glared at the guard bitterly, but followed, doing her best to ignore the sneers and smirks of the other prisoners as she strode down the hall in what she hoped was a confident manner. She was stopped at a cell that was identical to her own, except instead of a cot there was a bunk bed, and a young man was scowling on the bottom bunk.  
"Why are we stopping here?" Cora was puzzled.  
"Ruben Salven, this is Cora Merandez. Cora, this is Ruben." the guard said.  
"Wait, you want to put me into a cell with him?!" Cora yelped. "You can't do that!"  
"Ruben is a special case. Solitary confinement only makes matters worse." explained the guard. Salven was staring at Cora with a rather hungry look in his eyes. Cora wondered if this was what the guard was talking about when he spoke of complications and lack of funding.  
"I'll go into Solitary Confinement." Cora volenteered bravely. The guard chuckled.  
"Nice try." he unlocked the cell door and slid it open, giving Cora a none too gentle push inside, leaving her staring at Ruben Salven.  
"Hola." Salven said with a slight, greasy grin. Cora found herself backing off, and the grin faded off Salven's face.  
"Hola?" Cora said tentavely. Salven spoke in heavily accented, furious English.  
"Oh, you're too good for jail now?"  
"What?" Cora was baffled, then she glanced at her pale hands. Oh. He thought that she was an American. She sighed and scaled the ladder to the top bunk without saying another word. It was pointless. Americans were despised for their greed and explotation. In some ways, the Mexicans were being just as bad about it as the Americans.  
"Don't you ignore me, you bitch!" Salven shouted, pacing across the room. The legs of his yellow jumpsuit, akin to Cora's, made a whisk, whisk sound.  
"Anger problems?" Cora asked, draping herself slightly over the railing of the top bunk to give a sardonic grin to Salven. To her surprise, he seized her forearm and dragged her down, sending her toppling onto the hard concrete floor. She let out a cry as her elbow banged painfully against the floor.  
"Got you now, Merandez." Salven grinned, brushing his long hair out of his eyes. He had surprising strength for such a scrawny guy.  
"What was that for?" Cora said sitting up painfully and rubbing her elbow. Salven didn't answer, but drew his footback and sent a painful kick to Cora's jaw. Cora went skidding back two paces on her back, with a dull thud going on through her jaw.  
"That," Salven said in a satisfied way "Is for ignoring me, American."  
"I was born and bred in Mexico, you idiot!" Cora snapped, getting to her feet. "So you shut your filthy mouth!"  
Ruben laughed, then sat down on the bottom bunk and shook his head. HIs greasy hair swung back and forth as he turned his head.  
"You think that makes any difference? Your father is one of the ones who enslaved my father. For what? A penny a day! Not enough to feed a family!"  
"How the hell do you know about my father?" Cora tsked. She was positive that there would be brusing on her elbow and face now.  
"I had a little chat with the guard." Salven said smugly.  
"Up yours." Cora painfully got to her feet. She was considering asking the guard to shoot Salven. Or to push forward the date of her excecution. Either would be good. Odd, that she'd rather face death than a guy who looked like he was only ninety pounds.  
Salven gave a harsh laugh and swung up to the top bunk. Cora flopped on the bottom bunk and fell into a light sleep, often interrupted by Salven's soft muttering to himself.  
  
It was three days later, and the swelling on Cora's face and elbow was only beginning to go down. To make matters worse, there was a pain in her stomach that was dull, but never-fading.  
Cora was going to die with a purple jawline, a black elbow, and an upset tummy. Wasn't life just spectacular? She looked up, surprise in her face as one of the guards opened up the door. It wasn't time to be let out into the courtyard (one of the side districts of Hell), or the cafeteria (the Sixth Circle of Hell), or anything like that.  
Salven had taken notice of this odd occurance too. He swung off the top bunk where he usually stayed, landing on his feet with an agility that he rarely showed, even when he wasn't lounging on the top bunk. He spoke in a string of agitated Spanish that Cora couldn't keep up with.  
"Salven, Merandez." the guard said silently.  
"What is it?" Cora asked in English, then repeated it in Spanish. Speaking English in this living hell had gotten her quite a few knocks and bruises. Once a knife had flashed. Cora still wasn't quite over the shock of that. She was having nightmares still.  
"You two have visitors."  
"I told them to go to America." Cora muttered. It had to be Mother or Father. Who else could it be? No one else would come an dvisit a little rag tag assassin. Unless it was the media. Eitherway, Cora was not happy.  
Ruben merely grinned and cracked his knuckles.  
"Lead the way, Senor." he said simply. The guard scowled, but opened the jail cell.  
"Cocky, aren't you?" Cora hissed.  
"And why not?" Ruben replied. 


	8. Devil's Hand

Cora's anxiety grew as she was lead down the hall, then a twist and a turn. The guard scowled and shot at a rat, but that was the only thing to break the monotony.  
Salven looked smug, before he turned and poked Cora in the ribs.  
"Merandez, this is our lucky day." he said.  
"What the hell makes you say that?" Cora said drearily.  
"Prisoners disappear from here. They get visitors, and bam! They're gone the next day!"  
"Salven, you idiot! That's not a good thing! It means that they shoot the prisoners in the head and bury them in a godforsaken DESERT!" Cora was shouting at the end of her tirade.  
The guard spoke a little English, but not enough to catch more than that Cora was berating Salven. Good, maybe if they got into a fight they'd kill each other. He remained silent though.  
"Whatever you say, American." sneered Salven. 'Merandez', 'bitch' and 'American' seemed to be Salven's rotating titles for Cora. 'Merandez' when he was speaking to her as an accomplice or acquaintance, 'American' whenever he was in a particularly nasty mood, and 'bitch' when he was blinded with anger.  
Finally, the guard lead them to a large door. The door had been painted a particuarly disgusting shade of green, not unlike the mold on a rock. The grotesque effect was only added to by chips of paint falling off the door like a slight rain, and the blobs of dried paint. Apparently, the one who had done this job had not been very skilled.  
"I'm not going in there." Cora said, planting her feet stubbornly.  
The guard looked at Cora and then Salven in confusion. What, did he expect for Cora to stride into what looked like the gateway for a slaughterhouse?  
"Come on, American." Salven said. "It's not frightening to die, it's frightening to live. What, in these conditions I'm surprised a soft woman such as yourself lived so long."  
"What, are inspirational quotes supposed to sooth death?" Cora retorted. "It's not a prose of poetry that makes people do things, it's that they want to win! In this case, winning is surviving, and I'd rather spend eternity in a cell with you then end up buried alive!"  
"Stop being such a goddamn drama queen!" stormed Salven, and seized her forearm and swung the door open. The guard looked faintly surprised, but he nodded them through.  
"You let go of me right now, Ruben Salven!" Cora shouted.  
"No, Merandez! This is our way out!"  
"Yeah, death doesn't count!" Cora growled. "Just you wait until I get my hand on a knife! Then you'll be noticably lacking an eye, yes you will."  
"Oh, am I supposed to be afraid of the little girl with a butter knife?"  
"I'll kill you, Salven!" Cora howled, but he finally got the better of her and pratically flung her through the door. The two went skidding to the ground. Just to get her retribution, Cora blindly swung her knee up, catching Salven in the gut. There was a choking sound from beneath her, but she brushed her hair out of her face and stood, wincing.  
It was an ordinary room for visitors. Two men sat calmly in rather plush chairs, watching Salven struggle for breath and Cora rearrange herself to some semblance of a civilized person. There was a guard at the doorway, looking upon the two prisoners with amusement, as one laughs at seeing two kittens bat another. Cora glared at him.  
"Now, now, Merandez." he drawled, unclipping the tazer from his belt. "We don't want any trouble, now do we?" he wasn't Mexican from birth, and was one of the more ruthless guards from taunts from guards and prisioners alike.  
"What the hell is going on here?" Cora demanded. In response, he seized a handful of her greasy hair and pressed the tazer into the small of her back. Cora yelped and tried to wriggle away, attempting to sink her teeth in the guard's wrist. Finally he pushed her away with a laugh. Her skin tingled.  
Salven was on his feet by this time, and he brushed more hair out of his face. He appeared to be grinning at Cora's pain.  
"Miss Cora Marie Merandez?" one of the men in the suits said. Cora had forgotten why she was here in the first place. Her face turned red.  
"Yes."  
"Mr. Ruben Robert 'El Tiburón' Salven?"  
"Yeah, I'm the Shark." Salven said proudly, then turned to Cora. "See, Merandez? I'm not in here for following Copley like a sheep."  
"Right, so follow these suits instead?" Cora asked in disgust. "Look, gentlemen, forgive me if I'm curt, but dealing with Satan tends to do that to you."  
"You may be curt many a time in future then." the second man said with a bit of a grin. Cora frowned at him.  
"What do you want?" she asked.  
"We come from Umbrella Incorperated, the world's largest pharmecutical company." The opposite of acting disgusted or dismayed by Cora's bluntness or violence, they actually seemed encouraged. "But we also deal with ... other issues."  
"Other issues?" Salven looked slyer than normal. "And what issues require you to speak to convicts sentanced to fry?"  
That brought a long pause from both of the suits, then one nodded at the guard. He simply walked off. Cora was amazed.  
"I'll repay your brutal honesty with the same." the first suit said. "Our names are better unsaid. I'm Mr. Turn, he's Mr. White for the moment. You can call us that. We have a few ... potential timberboxes around the world. We've stepped in a bit of dog doo, so to speak. It is necessary, but we've also angered a few groups. So here's the deal, Salven and Merandez."  
"Wait." Salven interrupted. "Timberboxes?" Turn ignored Salven.  
"You can come with us and learn more, or you can die. Choose now." 


	9. What is Truth?

There was a very long pause.  
"Could you possibly elaborate on that." Cora said faintly. "Because, you know, I'd hate to have to choose between death and wiping dog doo off of a giant shoe."  
"What the fucking hell are you two idiots talking about?" Salven was angry. "You come in here and drag us around. We're a pharmaceutical company, you say. So that's why you're taking convicts to your 'bases' and have them, as Merandez said, do your dirty work?"  
Before anyone else in the room could stop him, Mr. White had a gun pressed against Salven's right temple.  
"I believe that your scheduled date of execution is November 18th, 2006. If you are impatient, then I can easily bring it to August 10th, 1997." "You need me more than I need you." Salven sneered. Mr. White laughed.  
"Every day, some bright young lad commits a crime, and one of them is going to have a cleaner mouth and a smarter head than you, El Tiburón." Mr. White said the name mockingly. Salven looked like he would hit the man, if he was the type of man to hit his only way out of Hell.  
"Then do what Merandez says and elaborate."  
"Right. We need bright young men and women to come to Paris. We'll give you a college education, a proper life - food, boarding, ect. There will also be a heavy training program. Umbrella does need extra man power at times."  
"I'm in." Cora said without hesitation. Salven stared at Cora.  
"Are you mad, American?"  
"It appears that El Tiburón has met la requine." Mr. Turn laughed. "Which one will smell blood first?"  
Cora ignored their sly digs and suave talk.  
"This is my only chance to see the world. If I can't go to law school, then I'll go to Umbrella's school."  
"So honorable." Salven said, shaking his head sadly.  
"If it's dishonorable to want to see my little sister again, then fine, I'm a coward and a fool. But I'm not going to die just so I can hold my head a little higher in some other world."  
"I was hoping that it wouldn't come to this, but Miss Merandez's wise words remind me. We have both the Merandez and the Salven family right in check. Luckily, Amelia and Laine Merandez are safe from harm from now, but as for Lydia Salven, well I can't promise her safety."  
"You bastards! If you touch my wife, I'll kill you!" Salven snarled.  
"Hopefully, it won't be an option." Mr. White said blandly.  
"If you touch Lydia... Lydia! Where is she!"  
"We found her in your apartment. Don't worry, she is waiting for you. It would be a shame to hurt a fine young woman like that. She keeps to her word. She's very confused right now, though. She doesn't know why she's being forced to stay in the room."  
"You..." Salven looked too angry to speak. His face was red and his eyes were aflame.  
"Oh , don't worry. We'll put her corpse to some good use. We're not picky about dead women. Morals are optional, you know. Quite useful to use on others, but really not necessary for yourself."  
"You won't hurt her if I agree." Salven said cautiously. Mr. Turn nodded and Mr. White grinned.  
"You're getting the hang of it now!"  
Salven stood still, exhaling deeply. Finally, he nodded.  
"You treat Lydia well, and I'll grovel as low as any mangy American dog." he glanced at Cora at this. Cora gave him a flat look back. Better a half-American than a bigot and a jerk.  
"Your words may agree, but Cora, you're often referred too as the Serpent of the Streets. How do I know that you won't slip away."  
"You don't." Cora said. "I know that I won't though. As long as you hold Amelia and my Mother -" she suddenly paused, frowning. She studied Turn and White with her big blue-gray eyes as though looking for any hint of a lie or an emotion that they would rather they hid away in their minds, then she exhaled through her mouth.  
"Something bothering you, Cora?"  
"Yes. You mentioned Mother and Amelia, but you never mentioned my father."  
"Your Father is dead."  
"Oh!" Cora gasped. She felt suddenly lightheaded. She hated the man with a passion, but she wouldn't list death upon him. He had always been rather kind and intelligent, even if he was vain and empty headed.  
"Yes, he should have not been so pompous. It was his downfall."  
"How did he die?" Cora demanded. "I am his daughter, and if you don't let me know..."  
"Good, you have some temper too." Mr. Turn said.  
"Tell me!" Cora shouted.  
"He died in a car crash."  
"A car crash?" Cora said skeptically. "Honestly, I trust you two as far as I can throw you. And my father was an excellent driver. Besides, how would pompousness be his downfall?"  
"Lord Spencer was very kind to your father. He offered him a high position. Your father drove around to tell all who would listen. It lead to his demise, he was driving too fast and his mind was not clear. He was too happy, and that lead to him crashing into a tree. He died on arrival at the hospital. We did all we could."  
"Right." Cora was still rather skeptical, but she figured it would be smarter not to argue. She had her way out and she was seizing it with both hands.  
"Right, Merandez, Salven. No more delay. A media frenzy will go on if we are discovered, so we had better move, now."  
"Right." Cora said. Her stomach protested loudly - it was pained, it didn't want to go on a trip. Cora didn't care. She was going to be free. 


	10. Awakening

Cora's stomach stopped hurting in the van driving out of the village, but it began to feel odd. The odd, tingly feeling spread out of her stomach and into her limbs. She felt extremely lightheaded.  
"Merandez, what's wrong with you?" Salven asked while she was trying to figure out why her vision was dancing from side to side to so.  
"I'm fine." she tried to say. It came out as a soft whimper.  
"Stop the van!" Salven ordered.  
"Why?"  
"Merandez is sick."  
"So?"  
"So she's gonna hurl all over the nice interior of your classy van, and I'm sure as hell not paying for it to be cleaned up." Salven snapped. The van hissed to a stop.  
"I'm - I'm cold." Cora stuttered.  
"God, they can't even keep the prisons clean!" White snapped.  
"They told us that they would be in prime health. If either of them die, it's worthy of death, right?"  
"Of course. Rip off Umbrella, we'll rip off your face." there was a bit of laughter, but it seemed far off and distant.  
"Amelia, I'm sorry." Cora whispered, and her eyes began to close. She struggled to keep them open. The last thing she heard was:  
"Don't you fucking die on me, Cora!" from Salven, and then everything went black and the sound was blotted out from the world.  
  
Cora woke up with a dizzy feeling in her head and her hair all tangled up. She blinked, trying to reorient herself. The ceiling swam into focus. Clean, pure white. Cora remembered thinking later that her first impression of Umbrella's quarters was so unlike what it really stood for.  
Cora sniffed, trying to remember what had happened. She remembered Salven's anguished cry, Turn and White, Angry and Scrawny, Death Row, Umbrella.  
Her father was dead. That was one thought that hurt. But Cora forced herself to sit up. She began to cough.  
"Oh, goodness, you're up!" someone cried.  
"Who are you? Where am I?" Cora asked, dazed.  
"Well, my name is Linda." she said, twirling a curly lock of blond hair. "I'm your personal nerse. You're in Umbrella's Headquarters in France. It's September the first."  
"I've slept for so long?" Cora asked, dazed.  
"Are you ready to get up?"  
"Yes, I think so." Cora said. She considered her current situation and compared it to being in jail.  
On one hand, she had been in a jail with a crime lord who had called himself the Shark and who's main goal had seemed to be to belittle Cora or else kill her.  
On the other hand, she was stuck in a company that was probably hiding something's headquarters, with a bouncy air-headed nurse to become ... Cora wasn't even sure why she was here. It just went to show you how luck could work in one's favour.  
She let go of her train of thought and climbed out of bed, dressing in the clothes at the foot of her bed. A tight fitting , thin dark blue sweater, baggy cotton sweat pants, and an elastic band. Cora brushed her hair and braided it. Then she spotted it, a nametag.  
"Put it on." Linda said, her voice suddenly becoming sharp. Cora felt the material of the name tag. It felt glossy and thick. On the front was a picture of Cora with a hunted look on her face.  
  
Cora Marie Merandez Umbrella Inc. Trainee B#1094  
  
"Why?" Cora asked blandly. Linda looked irritated.  
"It's mandatory."  
"Alright, then." Cora said, shrugging. She clipped the name tag onto her shirt and sighed, pulling on her shoes and tying the shoelaces as tightly as she could, hopping from one foot to the next. To her surprise, Linda pushed a shopping bag at her.  
"Here. Umbrella took some of your belongings from Mexico." Linda said. Cora opened up the shopping bag. A change of clothes, a picture of her Father, her Mother, Amerlia and Cora, and the wooden crate. Cora pulled out the crate and cracked it open. Inside was a note written on thick, personalised stationary.  
  
From the Desk of Gabriel Turnbull  
  
Hello, Cora. You may know me as "Mr. Turn", more simply. Welcome to Umbrella! I'm sure that you'll fit in simply beautifully as soon as you wake up.  
We've been reading up on you, and you've had a harsh past. No worries, you'll find shelter and recovery at Umbrella. The training is tough, but our trainers are fair.  
Your friends Ruben Salven is in good health, and he seems anxious to know how you're feeling. He sends his regards, saying that 'If that American dies on me now, then I'm going to slap her until she wakes up. It's a goddamn bad omen for one of us to die so soon'. Quaint, I'm sure.  
Hopefully our nurse Linda Landcastre will provide you with anything you need. Your room is 143 in the west wing of the dormitories. Ask anyone, and they'll lead you the way! Good luck, and may you progress quickly.  
-Gabriel Turnbull  
  
Cora crumpled the note in her hand, gathered her stuff, and left. 


	11. Welcome to the Jungle

Cora's room was small, but cozy. There was another note on her pillow, this one much shorter and much less flowery.  
  
Cora,  
Head to the gym.  
-Turnbull  
  
Cora wandered out her room, feeling lonely. She hadn't equipped her knives on her yet, feeling that she didn't need them for the moment. After asking a woman in a lab coat where the gym was, she was instructed down several long halls, a few left turns, to a large door. She headed inside.  
Cora had seen one or two gyms in Mexico, but she was sure that no gym in all of North America could stand up to this. One wall was just a long panel of mirrors, the other walls were painted creamy white, with blue clouds appeared to have been painted on. There was paneling that took up half the wall, that appeared to be some rich, unmarked wood. The air was cool, the floor tiles were heated, and the gym equipment was plentiful.  
A short woman with flaming red hair and dazzlingly green eyes strode up to Cora, then eyed her expectantly.  
"Cora Merandez?" she asked in a heavy French accent.  
"That's me." Cora said.  
"Right. The Mexican. You'll not be ready for this part of the gym yet. You still need to work on elementary skills, such as falling on your back, grappling, the works."  
"Oh." Cora said. "I was actually hoping to learn what this training is for."  
"To serve Umbrella." The woman said. Cora read her name tag, frowning.  
  
Irene Elizabeth Dinzali Umbrella Inc. Trainer #A1401  
  
"So, what, you just train people all day? Sounds boring."  
"It puts food on the table." Irene said. "Now, to you I am Trainer Dinzali. Follow me, and we can start some of the basics."  
Irene lead Cora to a door hidden cunningly among the mirrors. She opened it to another room. The tiles were still heated, and there was still the mirror-wall, but those were the only similarities between the main gym and this room. The floor was covered with dark blue mats, and the walls were a dark green color.  
"What is this place?"  
"It's my personal training spot. I bring new trainees here." Irene said confidently. She switched on a radio. Guitars began to wail. Irene grinned. "Welcome, mon ami, to what I call 'The Jungle'. Now, see how long it takes for me to pin you, Merandez."  
"Yes, Trainer Dinzali." Cora said, tensing. Without another word of warning, Irene flung herself at Cora. Cora let out a cry as Irene drove an elbow into Cora's midsection, sending the taller woman toppling backwards. Cora lashed out,sending a right hook right into Irene's face. She could here a cry from Irene. Cora groped for a dagger that wasn't there, and Irene seized Cora's arm and flipped her open.  
"Ow... ow..." Cora whimpered into the mats. "Will you get off of me?"  
"One." Irene said emotionlessly.  
"You're hurting me!"  
"Two."  
"OW!"  
"Three. I win, Merandez."  
"Oh, well as long as we're being fair..." Cora said sarcastically, getting to her feet and rubbing her arm.  
It took three more tries before Cora was able to draw blood from Irene, and only when the clock on the wall said it was three o'clock was Cora able to break out of a pin. Irene looked satisfied.  
Cora lay on the ground, gasping for air. Just because Irene was tiny didn't mean that she wasn't vicious.  
"You all right, Merandez?"  
"Yeah." Cora got back to her feet. Before she was completely oriented, Irene had tackled her. Cora tried to keep her balance, throwing out a hand to catch herself and using her other hand to push Irene backwards. Irene twisted to the side, landing on her feet and laughing. "Your problem, Merandez, is that you keep on falling on your elbows. How did you get so clumsy?"  
"I am not clumsy!" Cora protested. She was sore, battered, and exhausted. Irene was quick on her feet, and strong. The strict bun that Cora's trainer had had was now loose, and her hair was scattered loosely.  
"Yes, you are. You need to work on your landings."  
"Look, Irene, all I want to do is see my little sister." Cora said wearily. Irene suddenly moved like lightning, seizing Cora's braid and yanking it back so that Cora was forced into some grotesque arch.  
"What did I tell you?" Irene said softly. Cora couldn't respond, she tried to hit Irene, but Irene swatted away Cora's fist easily.  
"Stop it!" Cora finally managed to say in a strained voice. Irene scowled.  
"No, I didn't say 'stop it'." She finally said. Cora felt that she was going mad with the pain. "I told you to show me the proper respect and to call me 'Trainer Dinzali'."  
"I'm sorry!"  
"No you aren't, you miserable wretch." Irene decked Cora in her side, and Cora fell to the mats, coughing and clutching her ribs. Irene scowled. "And you call yourself a trainee? I could go out and find any pathetic woman off the streets, and she could beat you. Now, leave. I'll see you later." 


	12. Zombie

With her muscles screaming in pain and with the pain in her side becoming ever more painful as she stumbled towards her room.  
"Damnit, Dinzali. Can't a slap on the wrist do?" she muttered, and pulled her key out of her pocket, pausing to lean against the door and to try to clear her head. She had been tackled, punched, bent, and she was quite thoroughly tuckered out. She also wanted to see Salven, and Amelia, and Mother.  
To make matters worse, she didn't even get any headway on what Umbrella was up to. It was obvious that they weren't just any ordinary pharmaceutical company. Training rooms, head quarters, agents, convicts, and trainers with tempers probably weren't to be found in a local drug store.  
The loudspeaker suddenly crackled, and Cora sighed and gave up on the lock to turn around.  
"ATTENTION, ALL UMBRELLA PERSONNEL." a voice blared. It was alarming how calm the voice was, yet so urgent and loud. "ATTENTION, ALL UMBRELLA PERSONNEL."  
"Well, this could get interesting." Cora said to herself, eyeing the loudspeaker. She thought she could hear a soft noise in the background, but she ignored it. Probably another scientist plodding around.  
"A SAMPLE HAS ESCAPED FROM THE LABS." the loudspeaker warned. This was very interesting. A sample? Cora giggled at the thought, a mental image of a giant pill striding down the halls sparking in her mind. Cora thought she could hear a moan in the distance, but she ignored it yet again. "IF YOU SEE IT, NEUTRALIZE IT. REMAIN CALM. IF YOU ARE INFECTED, GO TO THE MEDICAL ROOM IMMEDIATELY. THANK YOU FOR YOUR COOPERATION."  
"What was that all about?" Cora asked, turning back to the lock, when she heard heavy, dragging footsteps. The young trainee slowly turned around to see a man with thinning hair dragging his feet down the hall, arms outstretched. A strong smell was rising from him.  
"Ooh." the man moaned. A piece of rotten skin fell from his face.  
"Sir?" Cora asked tentatively. "Are you all right?"  
The man did not answer, but he moaned again and he continued his shuffle. His eyes were locked on Cora. Suddenly Cora realized that he had no pupil, or iris.  
"Get away from me." Cora said tersely. "Get away!"  
The man showed no sign of giving up. Cora jammed the key on the lock and twisted as hard as she could. The door opened with a click. Cora clambered inside and slammed the door, locking it. Then, just incase, she pushed the table beside her bed in front of the door.  
"Thump, thump." went the man's hands on the door.  
"Go away!" Cora screamed. She pressed herself against the back door, then grabbed her lamp. If he dared come in, then she would smash the rest of that monster's head apart. There was suddenly a single gunshot, and a dull thump.  
"Is anyone in there?" someone called. Cora didn't respond, but she clutched her lamp more tightly. "Hello? Is anyone in there? I'm human, don't worry."  
"I'm in here." Cora finally called back.  
"Right. Did the zombie bite you at all? Did he touch you?"  
"Zombie?" Cora called back. "What the hell do you mean, zombie?"  
There was a very long silence on the outside of the door.  
"I think that we need to talk to you."  
"There is no fucking way that I'm leaving my room." Cora shouted. "There are monsters."  
"It's OK, it's safe, and I'm armed. Nothing's going to hurt you."  
"Fine." Cora finally said furiously. She set the lamp down and moved the table, then opened the door a creak. The corpse was on the floor, his eyes still open. The man who she had had a lovely conversation with was standing above the corpse with a look of distaste on his face. He turned - it was Gabriel Turnbull.  
"Hello, Miss Merandez." he said courteously. She didn't respond, but merely stared at the corpse on her doorstep. "I'm supposing you'll want an explanation."  
"Of course I want an explanation, you idiot!" Cora exploded. This was too much for her. Rescued from prison, sleeping for days, then waking up to this insanity was enough to wear away at her nerves terribly. "You just shot a man with no eyes!"  
"Well, technically, zombies do have eyes."  
"Shut up." Cora said wearily. "No turning words, no stupid twists, just shut up and tell the truth plain and simple." Gabriel Turnbull looked slightly taken aback at these words. He gave a thoughtful frown, then began to tap his finger against his chin. Finally, he spoke with a voice full of wonder.  
"Cora, imagine a world where no able bodied man has to go out into combat. Instead, we use B.O.W.s to do the dirty work for us. No causalities. How can you kill a soldier that is already dead? All the world's markets is looking for something like this. Of course, quite a few are reluctant. America, for one. Canada. Spain. They're all very dubious about this.  
What we do, Cora, is we regenerate the dead. You can restart a human heart for a half an hour after it's death. It' quite a simple business. The only problem is, with what we have so far - the T-Virus - it robs the host of all intelligence and gives it a thirst for flesh. And of course, you always have the danger of an outbreak. The T-Virus escaping and turning human beings into monsters. Quite unfortunate. Quite.  
We have several of the world's top scientists working on this. William Birkin, for one. Alexia Ashford. They all have new ideas for new ways to perfect our techniques."  
"You're sick." Cora whispered. "You're all sick."  
"Oh, as long as you're part of Umbrella, then you're sick too." Turnbull gave a quite nasty grin. "There's no way out for you, Cora. You're in far too deep." 


	13. Family Reunion

"And what? If I try to leave, will you set a zombie on me?" Cora said sarcastically. "It took one bullet to kill the thing."  
"Will Amelia be so well equipped?" Turnbull asked sarcastically. Cora froze.  
"You wouldn't. She's only eleven!"  
"Her age doesn't matter - she's quite a useful lever for you." Turnbull said. A muscle jumped in Cora's cheek.  
"I want to see her." Cora said softly. "To make sure that she hasn't died in a ... car accident as well."  
Turnbull gave a soft smile.  
"You may see her, and your Mother. Only for a short while though. And I'll expect you'll be wanting some rest." Turnbull said not another word, but turned and strode down the hall silently. Cora followed, scowling.  
Turnbull seemed to know his way around the facility, he turned left and right and left again without stopping to think or consulting a map. Cora stayed close on his heels. She didn't want to be left behind.  
Finally, Turnbull stopped and knocked gently on the door. The door opened, and Laine Merandez stood there with a haggard face.  
"Yes?" she asked softly, and she caught sight of Cora. At first her eyes widened with fear, but then she caught sight of Cora's name tag. A look of pity and anger came over her face.  
"Your daughter insisted on seeing you and her sister." Turnbull said simply. "It seems that she refuses to cooperate any other way."  
"That's my girl." Laine said, wrapping her daughter up in a hug.  
"Cora! Cora!" Amelia squeaked. Cora looked at her sister. Amelia's face was pale and drawn, and her big eyes looked enormous in a peaked face, but she was smiling and skipping to Cora.  
"I'll be waiting outside. You have one hour." Turnbull told Cora.  
Cora stepped into what appeared to be a small apartment. Laine motioned for Cora to sit down.  
"What happened, Cora?" she asked anxiously. Amelia sat down and stared at her sister. Taking a deep breath, Cora recounted everything that had happened. How she was sent into prison. How a knife had flashed. She recounted her nightmares. She spoke only briefly of sharing a cell with Salven - from what she had heard about him recently, he seemed worried about herb, but that couldn't be true. He hated her. She spoke of Linda, of Dinzali, of the Jungle. She didn't mention the zombie though. Amelia was already looking afraid. Besides, she didn't think Laine or Amelia would believe her.  
"Do you have any news on Daryl?" Mother asked anxiously. Cora hesitated.  
"Yes." she finally said. "He was killed in a car crash."  
Amelia let out a cry of anguish.  
"Father!" she cried. Laine shook her head sadly, and Amelia fled from the room.  
"I don't think he did die in a car crash though." Cora said quietly. Laine stared at her daughter.  
"What? But ..."  
"I don't know. It just doesn't add up. I honestly think he was killed by someone at Umbrella." Cora said. "And Umbrella is up to more than just drugs. I saw the walking dead."  
"We're right below the labs, and sometimes we hear odd noises, but I'm sure it's nothing that insane." Laine said briskly.  
"It is." Cora said. "I don't even know the half of it. I don't want to know. But I have the feeling that I don't have a choice in the matter."  
After that, Laine and Cora forced themselves to chat about every day matters. Aunt Cecilia was doing well. The peso was going up. Some more of Mr. Copley's assassins had been caught. Umbrella was having a picnic for employees. There seemed to be some sort of transfer to a new labrotory somewhere in America. They stayed away from zombies, Daryl Jones, and Mexican jails though.  
There was a knock on the door soon after, and Cora got to her feet, kissed her mother on the cheek, and went to walk off. Before she did so, she paused.  
"Give Amelia my regards, please."  
"I will if she recovers." Laine's face was sad again.  
"I hated him. He still didn't deserve a car crash or a zombie bite, or whatever he got."  
"Does anyone?" Mother shook her head. Cora sighed and strode out of the room. Turnbull was standing there.  
"Sixty two minutes." he said sternly.  
"Do you let Salven see his wife?" Cora asked innocently.  
"No. The Shark may rant and rave, but Lydia Salven is furious at Ruben. This is all his fault. His fault for getting caught, his fault for going to Umbrella, his fault that she has a nice little apartment three feet underground. She's not very happy, and quite unresponsive. If Salven doesn't come out to be a satisfactory soldier, well, she might brighten a bit." Turnbull gave a dark chuckle. "Not for too long though."  
"What does that mean?" Cora demanded.  
"You're a very nosy little squirrel, Merandez." was all Turnbull said. Cora ground her teeth.  
"Don't answer with your bullshit." she demanded. "I don't believe anything that you say."  
"Sad, isn't it?" Turnbull said in a wise sort of way. Cora glared at him, then decided to seize the bait.  
"What's sad?"  
"That a fine, upstanding young woman such as yourself should choose to trust an eleven year old girl, an old pessimist, a slippery weasel, and a dead man who she hated over Umbrella."  
Cora growled at Turnbull, but she didn't say anything else. But there was a gnawing feeling of doubt and fear in the pit of her stomach. What was she getting herself into? 


	14. Lucifer's Mercy

The new few months passed pleasantly enough for Cora. As pleasantly as time could pass when you were in a monster infested hell hole full of deceit and corruption, anyway.  
Cora met with Salven a few times. Every time, she would inquire after his concern, and he'd always respond the same.  
"If Jailbirds don't look after each other, who will? The cops?" he laughed, and would punch Cora on the arm. Cora would usually sock him back and he'd mock her strength, or else call her a bitch and storm off, depending on whether he was allowed to fight with his wife that week or not.  
It was a new lifestyle, but it was one that Cora was getting used to. Her strengths and weaknesses were starting to show. She was good at slipping quietly through shadows, at using her daggers to slit a throat, at checking out perimeters without being seen.  
But at one on one situations, or 'kill everything that moves', she faltered. She insisted on using her daggers, but she was also becoming quite apt with a Glock .16 pistol.  
Irene Dinzali was still pushing Cora as hard as ever, but the tasks didn't seem quite so hard as they had that first month. Cora was even making good progress at climbing the rope and falling.  
Of course, all good things must come to an end. Cora found herself being called one day out of the Jungle to come to a Senior Umbrella Official's office. Cora came, twirling her now shoulder length hair on a finger nervously.  
"Trainee Cora Merandez?" The man behind the desk said. He gave no name.  
"Um, yes." Cora nodded nervously. In response came her own voice.  
"I don't think he did die in a car crash though."  
"Sir?" Cora said, alarmed.  
"You seem to doubt Umbrella." the man said quietly. There was a soft click, and again Cora's voice spoke from a tape recorder.'  
"I don't know. It just doesn't add up. I honestly think he was killed by someone at Umbrella. And Umbrella is up to more than just drugs. I saw the walking dead." A soft whirr sound, and then: "I don't even know the half of it. I don't want to know. But I have the feeling that I don't have a choice in the matter."  
Cora stood shellshocked. They had bugged her conversation with her Mother. She hadn't said anything treasonous since that day to her family - if just for Amelia's sake, but if they were pulling her up to here for that alone...  
The cool metal of a gun barrel was pressed against Cora's left temple, and she stiffened.  
"Umbrella was very kind to your father." the man said softly. "Very kind."  
"Y-yes sir. Gabriel Turnbull told me so."  
"And we have been very kind to your sister, and your mother, don't you think? Another man might have killed them, or left them in their dirty hovel in America. We didn't, did we?"  
"Well... no."  
"And we have been kindest of all to you, Cora Merandez." The metal shifted and Cora wanted to scream. Was this how her Father died? With a bullet in the brain and doubts in his mind? Cora trembled.  
"I-I'm sorry, sir." she stammered. "But I was all alone, away from home, friendless ... please extend that kindness a bit further, and understand how I felt! Even the Saints must have doubted God at one point!" it was a thin metaphor, but Cora was clutching at anything she could.  
The gun lowered and Cora had to stop herself from sighing in relief.  
"Yes, we are the hand of God, so to speak." the man mused to himself. "We shelter, and we destroy. We can choose your fate as well as any Lord, Merandez."  
"And I b-beg of you to choose rightly." Cora said. One slip and she could end up worse than that zombie who Turnbull had killed. Only seconds pass, but to poor Cora it seemed like eras in which the clock ticked by. Finally, a drawer opened and the gun was dropped inside.  
"This time, the Gods shelter. This time." the man finally said. Then he reached inside his pocket and pulled out a second name tag, passing it to Cora. Cora glanced at it, and her eyes widened.  
  
Cora Marie Merandez Umbrella Inc. Intermediate #c37  
  
"Wait, I'm getting promoted?" she said doubtfully.  
"Of course. Many of your instructors fairly sing your praises. Even Irene Dinzali is satisfied, and she is not the easiest woman in the world to impress. She says, and I quote, 'when that young fille watches her mouth, she is one of my better students.'."  
"Oh." Cora had had many a painful reminder that it was "Trainer Dinzali" and not "Irene".  
Cora unclipped her old Trainee tag and clipped on the Intermediate tag.  
"You'll be having a specialized training course now. Irene Dinzali insists on training you in your course."  
"What will my course be? If I may ask, sir."  
"Stealth. You have the potential to become more than just an assassin. You may become an Umbrella Special Forces member, if you keep the good work up. Now, leave me."  
"Yes sir." Cora said, and backed off. Part of her, the part of her that doubted the circumstances of her father's dead and who had wanted to seize the man's forearm when he had the gun against her head sneered. But oddly, another part of her that Cora did not remember was oddly satisfied. 


	15. Secondhand News

Both sides despised each other. Whenever Cora was in the side that she called Rebel, she spat upon everything that Umbrella stood for, and checked for bugs before she spoke to her Mother. Whenever she found a bug, she insulted Umbrella so subtly that anyone could doubt that she was really speaking evil against her protectors. When she didn't find one, she cursed at Turnbull and at the scientists, and at Salven, and at White, and at Angry and Scrawny, and she would speak of how she was convinced that that her father had not died in a car crash.  
Whenever Cora was in her other side, the one that was christened Angel by her, she was eternally grateful to Umbrella. She knew that she would either be rotting on Death Row or else rotting six feet under if not for Turn and White. She was convinced that her Father (the pompous old fool!) really had had his head swelled so far that he had crashed.  
Both sides despised each other because they both knew that either side had grains of truth hidden in them, but as the months, and then the years passed, the sides began to mix together. It was as if Cora had strings neatly attached to her arms and legs, and Umbrella was making her dance to the tune that they wished. Not even Rebel was immune to the jerky dance of the marionette.  
So Cora advanced quickly. Her aim with the Glock improved, and she began to work on working with a sniper rifle. She learned how to be flexible, how to swing from rod to rod and how to keep out of sight. She learned how to slit throats and she learned how to rappel down the side of a building.  
Altogether, Cora was usually too worn out to question Umbrella's morals any more than she could go out and have a time on the town. She did get days off, in which she explored Paris eagerly, but there were days when she forgot that there was a world outside of Umbrella's headquarters, days when she forgot Mexico even existed except on a blob on a map.  
Then one day, everything went to hell.  
Cora woke up to shouting, screams, and cries for calm. She went rigid underneath her blankets. An outbreak, that was the only thing that she could think of. There was an outbreak. She got up, silently, and tucked her Glock behind her belt. She grabbed her duffel bag with her sniper rifle and swung it over her shoulder, and hid her knives about her.  
Then she crept silently outside her door. The halls were empty. A scientist was running down the hall with a portable radio tucked beneath his arm. He spotted Cora.  
"Do you have any news on Raccoon?" he blurted. Cora blinked.  
"I was about to ask YOU if you had any news." she said, confused. "Is there an Outbreak? What's going on?"  
"There's an outbreak, all right. But not here. In Raccoon City, in America."  
Cora nodded slowly and strode down the hall. She didn't know where she was going. She had never gone to this part of the headquarters before - it was where the labs were.  
Surprise struck Cora as she entered one of the lab. There were quite a few TVs on, and everyone was gathered around them while trying to do as much work as possible. There were test tubes, and blood samples, and microscopes, and machines that Cora didn't even want to try to understand. But there were no cages with giant beasts within, or zombies, or anything else like that.  
"Raccoon City is under seige by the Cannibal Disease." one reporter informed all the scientists.  
"You idiot, it's the T-Virus! Not the Cannibal Disease! The T-Virus!"  
"This is useless." another scientist groaned. "They're not going to tell us anything about the T-Virus. And no use hoping that they'll mention Birkin. All his work, going to Hell. Such a shame."  
"Good, and I hope he goes to Hell with his work!" another scientist snapped. "I was at Arkely for a few weeks, filling in for this guy who's wife died. Birkin's brutal. His fault for staying there."  
"What do you mean, he's staying there?" a first scientist said, amazed.  
"This is Umbrella! Birkin would be in Paris on a golden helicopter if he wanted out. He doesn't, he's not letting his work die."  
"Fool." most of the scientists muttered. But a few nodded slowly.  
There appeared to be a knot of a dozen or so people who weren't scientists, but keeping up with the news. They all seemed to be Umbrella Special Forces, by the look of them.  
"This is bad."  
"We're going to be sent in, you know that?"  
"Pah! How bad can it be?"  
"It's a big fucking city, you idiot!" they chattered among themselves. Cora crept closer to the knot.  
"Um, excuse me." she said shyly. A couple of people grinned in amusement, a few people raised eyebrows. "Anyone mind fillin me in on what the hell is going on?"  
"Aren't you Dinzali's pet?" one said mockingly.  
"Hey, lay off the kid." a second said. He had been the one who had prediced that they would be sent in. "It's not her fault that Dinzali's a loon." he turned towards Cora, brushing longish hair out of his face. He was like a more musclar, more handsome, less greasy version of Salven. "Hey, I'm Carlos Oliveria."  
"Cora Merandez." she said shortly.  
"Anyway, the scientists have a really bad habit of not sleeping. They slip up, make mistakes. You follow me? The T-Virus, it'll shatter, and infection occurs."  
"They turn into zombies." Cora said slowly.  
"Right. Well, this is basically happening on a city-wide level. The S.T.A.R.S. fucked things up at Arkley. Now Raccoon is pretty much hopeless. We just gotta hope that anyone who isn't infected isn't eaten alive or slaughtered."  
"And what, the Special Forces clean up this stuff?" Cora said. Carlos nodded. So, this was wiping doo doo off Umbrella's shoe. Cora felt a bit cold. 


	16. Prelude to Disaster

"Is there any chance of an Outbreak happening here?" Cora asked.  
"Not really." Carlos said after a moment of thought. "Outbreaks are rare, but deadly as hell. Sometimes it's an accident. Once or twice it's been done intentionally."  
"Maybe the scientists should try sleeping. Even if their as obsessed as they claim to be." Cora said, the Rebel in her coming out. A couple of the scientists laughed, but most of them glared.  
"Anyway, don't worry about an Outbreak until you're caught in the middle of one." Carlos caught a glimpse of Cora's tag. "It may be sooner than you think, when you get promoted up."  
"Like that's ever going to happen." Cora rolled her eyes, and strode out of the labs. Her mind was racing as fast as the men and women scrambling up and down the halls with messages and orders and notices.  
Cora went to visit her Mother. Surely no one would mind. Only the scientists were doing a work, and a few even did that through Christmas and Vacation.  
  
Laine didn't have her TV off, and Amelia was sulking because she wanted to know what was going on. Laine was watching her daughter very carefully to make sure that she didn't switch from cartoons to the news.  
"Don't worry, Cora." Laine said. "Umbrella will clean this up, swish swish."  
"They always do." Cora said bitterly. She had found a bug beneath the single painting in the room, and was hence angry that she couldn't vent now that the shit had hit the fan. "This is an entire city. Lots and lots of lives that we're counting on Umbrella to save."  
"They'll come through." Laine said placidly. Months in fine living under Umbrella's care had softened the lines in her face, and she smiled. Once Cora had even heard her laugh. Angel rejoiced at that, Rebel darkly predicted that Mother was getting her hopes up only to have them crushed.  
Suddenly, the cartoons were replaced by a stern faced man.  
"We interrupt the current programming to update you on the situation in Raccoon City. Some of the scenes are NOT recommended for younger viewers, so children - better turn away!"  
"Let's watch something else." Mother said hastily.  
  
Cora felt useless as she stepped outside. Somewhere, across the ocean, was what she had been training for and what she had been avoiding since she had woken up in Umbrella's medical room.  
Salven stepped out of a door, beaming from ear to ear.  
"Hey, Merandez." he said in a good natured tone. "Lydia finally said that she forgives me."  
"Well done! It only took you, how many screaming matches?"  
"Ha, ha, very funny, American." sneered Salven. "I notice you've been promoted to Intermediate. What, do you think you're going to get a spot on USF Gamma or USF Delta? You aren't. They're reserving that spot for me."  
"I don't know." Cora said doubtfully as the two walked along. "I heard that Dinzali was thinking of quitting training and going back into the action."  
Salven burst into laughter and Cora stared at him.  
"Dinzali?" he gasped.  
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Cora gave Salven a good smack upside the head. He straightened, glaring at her.  
"Dinzali's a French midget. You can't honestly picture a French Midget up against the likes of, say, Oliveria or a Hunter or something."  
Cora had no idea what a Hunter was, but she honestly thought that Salven was being an idiot.  
"You've never trained under Dinzali, have you?" she said, putting as much disgust into her tone as she could.  
"No, why the hell should I? Her lessons are probably horrible." Salven put on a horrible French accent, which mingled with his Mexican accent and made his voice sound as if he had been punched in the throat recently. "Boujour, class! Time for some fromage! Now, let us run away from the enemy!"  
"God, Salven, with all the time that I've been spending apart from you, I forgot what a racist asshole you are."  
"I'm not racist, I hate everyone equally." Salven said in what he thought was a jaunty way. Cora rolled her eyes and shifted her duffle bag.  
"Let's go to the shooting range. I'm bored."  
Salven was surprised.  
"What, don't you want to hear about what's happening in Raccoon?"  
"No." Cora said, shaking her head. "It's all the same. Death, zombies, and flesh being eaten. It's like a B class horror movie, except it's happening in real life. It's way too depressing. Plus, I heard that they might start sending in Intermediates if things get bad enough."  
"It won't be that bad." Salven said. "Just picture it." He drew his gun from a holster that hung from his hip. Cora noticed the nude woman clumsily tooled into the leather almost immediately. "C'mere, you filthy T- Virus infected goons!" Salven sneered down a corridor.  
"Is there an outbreak?" A scientist squeaked. Salven dropped his gun out of surprise, and a shot rang out. Cora burst into laughter as the scientist stared, shook his head, and then walked away.  
"Real smooth there, gunslinger." Cora said, shaking her head. Salven and Cora heard shouts down the hall.  
"Good luck!"  
"Don't fail!"  
"Kick some zombie ass for me, eh!"  
"I guess they're sending out the lucky contenders." Salven said sarcastically. "See? No intermediates. Let's go to the shooting range. Maybe they'll have a TV in there."  
"Fine." Cora shrugged. She'd rather there wasn't a TV, but she didn't want to be in a crowd of people. "Let's go. Just try not to drop your gun."  
"Up yours." 


	17. Three Survivors

Bam! Bam! Bam! Cora's target shattered, sending splinters of wood scattering across the floor.  
"Damnit, Merandez, that one was mine!" Salven shouted.  
"Clearly, I was the one who got it." she retorted. To Salven's disappointment, there hadn't been at TV at the shooting range. The Shooting Range was practically deserted. Everyone was too busy trying to figure out was going on at Raccoon.  
"Merandez, we've been here for three hours. I want to find out what's been going on."  
"Well aren't you special. You argue with your wife all morning, but now you want to watch TV? Jesus, aren't you the Citizen of the Year."  
"Hey, shut up Merandez. This is big. Like you said, they might start sending Intermediates into Raccoon."  
"They've already sent out the teams." Cora sighed and shoved her Glock into it's holster. Salven followed suit. Cora shook her head at the woman on Salven's holster. "You really think that Umbrella would just sit by idly? They're drunk on power. They like playing God!"  
"Stick with 'em long enough, and you can become a Goddess, Merandez. It's the way things work."  
"Being a Goddess doesn't sound as great as it's cracked up to be." Cora said. "What, raising the dead, killing people ... I have better things to do." Cora scribbled her name on the sign out sheet and let the shooting range. Salven followed her.  
"Now that you're with Umbrella, you might as well enjoy yourself." Salven said. "Money! A job! Women!"  
"Aren't you married?" Cora said, disgustedly.  
"What Lydia doesn't know won't hurt her." Salven said. "Look, Merandez, relax! We're set for life!" Then Salven hesitated, and a sly grin came over his face. "You know, with everyone so worried about Raccoon, I bet that you and me could go out. Just, you know -" He was cut off by Cora slapping him.  
"Nice try, you filthy pervert." Cora said, disgusted. "I'll see you later, Salven. But first, get your mind out of the gutter." and with that, she strode off furiously.  
"Touchy, touchy." Salven said, with a grin on his face.  
  
When Cora arrived back in the labs, it appeared that two or three teams had been sent off to Raccoon.  
"Don't worry." one scientist said reassuringly. "Umbrella'll fix everything up real fine."  
"Yeah, I'm sure they will." Cora said. All she wanted to do is go to sleep. Her wrists were sore and she had a pounding headache from thinking too much and from the blasts of her gun. She still had training with Dinzali tomorrow, and class, and she would want to be visiting Amelia and...  
Cora staggered back to her room, fiddling with the lock. It was temperamental, and Cora found herself hating it. Her door swung open and Cora examined her room. Plain walls, painted a royal blue color. Pale floor boards were covered with a fuzzy dark blue oval rug, and the bed seemed to be pretty high quality. To Cora, they seemed poor quarters for someone who was expected to put their life on the line to fight off zombies and monsters.  
Cora changed into her pajamas and flopped down on the bed. Everything was spinning around inside her skull as fast as it would go. Salven, Dinzali, zombies, Umbrella, Oliveria... she fell asleep with her thoughts a jumbled mess and with her hands clenched tightly on the covers.  
When she awoke, it was morning. She squinted as the light hit her eyes.  
"Blarugh." she said, but got up. Dressing in plain slacks and a black sweater and arming herself, she considered her plans for the day. She noticed a note slipped half under her door, and she slipped it up.  
  
Merandez,  
There's been trouble with Raccoon. The place has been destroyed totally. Thank God they didn't send any of the Trainees or Intermediates back in. They would have been slaughtered. They sent in three teams. Only three people made it out alive, not counting any S.T.A.R.S. members or civilians.  
Umbrella's treating them all as heroes, of course. They really don't have a choice. These guys have seen things that would have some of the tougher higher ups here with their tail between their legs. Pitiful. But it's not my place to say things like that. It still is true.  
Anyway, Umbrella's giving anyone a day off. Come see me anyway. If you don't come, I'll have your spine in three pieces. And try not to make a fool of yourself, or me? At least look presentable. And come armed. You'll need to showcase your skills. It's important, so don't tarry. And again - look presentable and sharp, if nothing else!  
-Trainer Irene Dinzali  
  
Cora whistled between her teeth as she hoisted up her duffel bag onto her shoulder. The warning to come armed wasn't necessary. Cora hadn't been without a weapon since she had seen that zombie. She'd feel naked without at least a dagger or seven.  
Three teams sent out, and only three survivors. That had to be rough on Umbrella. No wonder they were giving everyone a day off. But what did Dinzali want? She was constantly complaining about having to work when the Intermediates or Trainees were skipping free. She seemed to take it as a personal insult.  
Cora quickly made herself 'presentable." She changed into a black t- shirt and a a pair of snug jeans. Cora didn't own anything nicer than that. What, was she supposed to fight in a dress?  
It was a very interesting puzzle, and one that Cora wasn't going to solve by sitting around doing nothing. She shrugged and headed down theh hall. She might as well find out now before she ended up being late. Then Dinzali would kill her before she could get anything done. 


	18. Scythe

Cora entered the gym confidently, scanning for Dinzali. There were a couple of wolf whistles from guys.  
"Hey, mamacita!" one called.  
"Very classy." Cora retorted, flipping him off. There were a couple of 'oohs!' from the guys, but luckily the whole thing was ended right there by Dinzali striding towards Cora. She glared at them all.  
"Good to see how mature you are, gentlemen." she said in her heavy french accent. "Such hommes like you probably drive all the ladies wild? Are any of you even married?"  
"And you are, Dinzali?" a man scoffed. She waggled a finger with a wedding band on it.  
"My maiden name is Talbot, after all, you idiot. I suggest that you do your homework before you run your bouche." She turned to Cora. "You came, and you're on time. Surprising. Did you set your alarm?"  
"Very funny, Irene." Cora said sarcastically. Irene's eyes flashed, but she said no more.  
"So you got my note?"  
"Of course, or else I wouldn't be here. What do you want?" Cora asked. Irene simply lead Cora to the back of the gym. There was a man there, about five inches taller than Cora and a great deal more muscular. He had a look in his eyes of one who hasn't had an easy past, and there was a bit of weariness in his face.  
"Cora, this is Raven Hunter."  
"Scythe." the man interrupted. Irene glared at him.  
"Excuse me?"  
"Call me Scythe." Scythe extended a hand. Cora gave it an uneasy shake.  
"I'm uh, Cora. Cora Merandez."  
"I know." Scythe said simply.  
"Mr. Hunter is one of the survivors of the Raccoon City incident." Irene said primly. Scythe gave her an amused look.  
"Right, and I've been given permission by one of the higher ups to form my own Umbrella Special Forces teams."  
"Oh?" Cora was intrigued.  
"Right. I mostly have who I want on the team. But you came... highly recommended." He gave another amused glance to Dinzali, who stared back with challenge in her eyes. Dinzali appeared to be afraid that she was being mocked.  
"So, what, you want me to move on to Umbrella Special Forces?" Cora said.  
"Yes. An Espionage Expert could come in handy."  
Cora hesitated.  
"I'd have to like, come on missions and stuff, right?" she said slowly. Scythe gave her a slightly odd look.  
"Yeah."  
"With zombies?" she said slowly. Scythe nodded again, then frowned.  
"Well, whatever Umbrella wants us to do, really." he corrected himself. Cora frowned.  
"I'll think about it." Cora said. Scythe suddenly frowned.  
"I need to see you in action anyways." Scythe said, and grinned. "On the shooting range. On a combat course."  
"Why?" Cora said, slightly panicked.  
"Well, I'm going to want to test your skills." Scythe said, in a 'duh' kind of way. "We're elitist assholes in Team Biohazard." he gave another little laugh.  
"Oh no." Cora thought. "I'm going to make a complete idiot out of myself. I need to find a way to stall."  
"I'll give you a bit of time to prepare, of course." Scythe said.  
"Um, tonight?" Cora asked frantically. Scythe gave her an odd look.  
"You're not afraid?"  
"Afraid? Me? Pfffft." Cora said. She just decided not to include that yes, she was afraid to the point that she had to cram her hands into her pockets to prevent them from shaking. "In fact, I could do those tests right now!"  
Oh, no, Cora... What the HELL have you just said?! You and your big mouth. You're screwed now.  
"Sure." Scythe shrugged. "Better than waiting around. Let's go to the shooting range, shall we?"  
"Yeah, okay." Cora said, trying to sound confident. "First, I'd like to have a little chat with Trainer Dinzali first."  
"Don't take too long."  
"I won't." Cora prayed that some how Dinzali would paralyze her. Then she could get out of this whole thing. Then Cora noticed something new on Dinzali's shirt.  
  
Irene Elizabeth Dinzali Umbrella Inc. USF Unit Gamma #G14  
  
"Wow, you got promoted!" Cora said. Good, perfect conversation fodder. Irene raised an eyebrow that made Cora feel nervous. Why wasn't Irene saying 'why thank you'?  
"I know you're ready to do the tests." she said, her French accent thick with dryness.  
"Why, so am I!" Cora said brightly.  
"Then why aren't you going?"  
"I wanted to congratulate you and ask you what the hell are you thinking by teaming me up with him?!"  
"Oh, so the truth comes out.  
"Well, he's a survivor. I want to get out as soon as possible. Now there's no chance for me to get away. I'm right next to a giant bullseye!" 


	19. This Is A Test

"Cora, when you work for Umbrella, everyone's a giant bulls eye. You're not escaping. Get over that fact. Just be thankful that you have your family here." Dinzali said sadly.  
Cora was curious at that, but Irene pushed her away, giving her advice on how to hold her hands straight and how to roll and all sorts of useless things that Cora had down pat. Before Cora could make a word of protest, the door to the gym was slammed shut behind her.  
"Well, thanks a lot!" she shouted through the door. Her temper was jumping, now, that was just great. Where was Salven when you needed someone to punch?  
She strode down the hall with only one thing on her mind : passing this test. If she didn't she would be mocked to all infinity. Finally, she reached the shooting range. Exhaling, the pushed the door open. Scythe was waiting, sitting cross legged with his back against the wall.  
"What weapons do you have?" he said, getting to his feet. Great, Cora was dealing with one of those 'let's get right to business' types. Wasn't that just splendid?  
"Daggers, Glock .16, and a sniper rifle." she responded in what she hoped was a professional way.  
"Daggers?" Scythe rose his eyebrow. Cora glanced at his hip, from which there was a sword hanging.  
"Yeah, you have a bloody sword. You would think that someone with a sword would accept daggers." Cora realized that she was beginning to ramble, and she shut up. Scythe laughed.  
"Daggers are short range."  
"Well, you can throw them." Cora said defensively. She didn't like being cross queried about her weapons. They had served her very well in Mexico, thank you very much. Scythe frowned.  
"How old are you, Cora?"  
"What?" The question had taken her completely by surprise.  
"Your age."  
"I'm uh, nineteen." Cora said. Scythe simply nodded.  
"Fair enough. Let's just see you go then."  
Cora unholstered her Glock and readied herself, flicking the safety on and making sure she had plenty of ammo. One of the targets slid back, making a loud electrical whirr as it slid across the ceiling. Cora went straight for a head shot, and the target spun around.  
Cora lost track of the time. Most of her energy was going on into listening for that whirr and then blasting. Six, seven, eight, nine... she lost count of how many targets she had broken into pieces or gotten a head shot on. Suddenly, one slipped out way at the back. Cora blasted away, but the target slid into the opposite wall.  
"Damnit!" Cora slammed her hand into the counter as the room darkened. "I missed one!"  
"Relax." Scythe was calm. "You passed. Besides, on a team, it's not just one person who does all the work."  
Cora felt her face turning red. He probably thought she was an idiot now. She holstered her gun.  
"Are we going to test out my sniper rifle stuff?" Cora said. She was fairly confident that she would do better on this. She had trained long and hard with her rifle, and she was confident that she could get everything on it.  
"Nah. Dinzali said that you knew it better than you knew yourself. I don't really care to sit around and see you peer into your scope all day. I have better things to be doing." He stood up and cracked his knuckles, and simply strode out. Cora stood there for a moment, completely dumbstruck. He was definitely an odd man, there was no question about that.  
Then Cora realized that she was standing in the middle of the shooting range with a stupid expression on her face, and she quickly darted out of the room before she was left behind. She was out of breath by the time she caught up to Scythe, who had left the facility and pointed to what looked like an outdoor course for stealth. There were high walls that were made out of some sort of thin material, set up for purposes like this, and camera set up randomly. There were also odd discs on the ground with glowing green lights set in the middle of them.  
"What the hell is that?" Cora blurted.  
"This is a stealth testing center." Scythe said as if that explained everything. He caught the blank look on Cora's face and sighed. "The sensors are sound sensors. Make a loud noise, and they'll pick it up. See?" he drew one off the ground and shouted into it. The sensor turned red and began to beep. "The cameras should be easy enough. You can shoot 'em out, turn 'em, whatever. Just don't get spotted by one. Make it out to the other edge of the course, and you're home free."  
"It's like a maze?" Cora said, eyeing the walls doubtfully.  
"No. It's just like a regular stroll in the park. Just don't get caught. Oh, and I'll be timing you. The record is pretty pathetic, so if you're anything near as good as Dinzali says you are, you shouldn't be in there for more than five minutes.  
"Oh." Cora was thoughtful. Maybe she could do this. Maybe she wouldn't screw up. It was doubtful, but it might happen.  
"You ready?"  
"Wait. So, if I pass this, I'm into Team Biohazard."  
"That's the idea." Scythe nodded.  
"Fair enough." Cora said to herself. She hesitated, breathing in and out deeply. She couldn't stall any more. This what was she had been training for all these months.  
Come on Cora, you're acting like a brand new assassin on her first job. she seized onto this familiar reed. Don't act like this is a test, Merandez! a voice in the back of her head instructed. Cora listened to this voice, as it seemed to be not freaking out. And that was a relief. Think of it as going through with an assassin job. Just gotta go through the security system to get the mark. So go, and get that paycheck. 


	20. Perfect Pass

The camera slowly rotated on it's pedestal. The cardboard wall seemed unchanged, no one was there yet. It rotated again, to see something small and dark rush towards he screen like there was no tomorrow. Then the camera exploded in a rush of metal and small bits, and it saw no more.  
Cora crept around the corner, her eyes darting feverishly to see any sensors. She didn't see any, great. She figured she was about half way through the course, and she hadn't messed up once yet. Hopefully, her good luck would continue.  
With a leap that would have done any ninja proud, Cora managed to seize on over a knocked over garbage can that was supposed to be an obstacle and seize onto a bar propped between two of the thin walls.  
It was then, before she was about to drop down, that she noticed the censor right beneath her feet. It was quite a clever trap, and Cora's hands were getting sore. There was nothing that she could silently use her feet to get a boost and land away from the censor on.  
In short, she was in danger of failing this test. Cora stared at the censor and wriggled her hands in an attempt to smooth away the pain. Then it struck her- the bar wasn't being held down by anything. Cora felt herself grin. Maybe there was a way out of this trap, after all. With a jolt that went through her entire body, she managed to pull the pole along side the wall. Now, the other side. With her efforts, she was now a couple of feet away from the sensor. Her arms hurt too much to go any further. She would just have to hope that she wasn't too close to alert the damn thing.  
With a soft thud, Cora landed on the ground. The light remained green. Cora was in the clear. She rolled to avoid a camera, dove to avoid two more sensors, and then that was it. She was out in the clear. She exhaled.  
"Three minutes and fifteen seconds." Scythe said, as he lounged on the outside of the course. "I'm impressed."  
"Yeah, well, you should be." Cora said. Breaking the record and not having a single flaw was enough to make her a little cocky, so what? She deserved it. Some of her moves out there had been positively brilliant.  
"Of course, there's always room for improvement." Scythe said. Cora felt her jaw drop open.  
"Excuse me?!" she said.  
"It means that you're sloppy in places. Your style needs work in others. But you're on the team. Congratulations."  
"Oh." Cora was slightly steaming. Her style was excellent, thank you very much. Scythe looked vaguely amused at the look on Cora's face.  
"Anyway, the team is going out for a dinner. All expenses paid for by Umbrella. One of those 'oh hi, nice to meet you' type of things. Can you make it?"  
"I don't know." Cora drawled. "I mean, I might be having dinner with some of my scientist buddies, or perhaps with my family. I mean, I have some very pressing demands on my time." She paused. "I can check my schedule for you?"  
"Think of it as your first command, Merandez." Scythe said. Cora scowled.  
"Time and place?"  
"Eh, just meet the rest of the team at the front doors at seven, sharp. Oh, and if you can, order the most expensive thing on the menu. We might as well take advantage of not having to pay for it all.  
"Yeah, sure." Cora shrugged. She supposed that if she was in a fancy restaurant she'd have to dress up. She wondered if she ever owned a dress. Her father had bought her a dress or seven on his escapades in America. Maybe one of those would still fit.  
Cora headed back to her room after a few more minutes of small talk, and examined her closet critically. Christ, she had bought at least a dozen pairs of cargoes and t-shirts since she had gotten here. She should have thought about getting a new dress.  
In the end (feeling like a complete idiot girly girl as she did it) she laid out all her dresses on the bed, and discarded the pink ones. She was left with a dark blue one that showed a bit too much cleavage and a tad too much leg for Cora's taste, and a black skirt that looked like the type you'd find on a piano teacher.  
Cora ended up opting for the skirt, wearing a black tank top with it. She just pulled her hair back simply, still feeling like a complete moron. Stepping outside her room, she checked her watch. She still had some time to kill.  
"Merandez!" a familar voice called. Cora sighed and turned around. It was Salven. "Man, you are smoking tonight."  
"And you're an idiot tonight. Same as usual, I see."  
"No name tag or anything." Salven sounded impressed. "I see you have a date?"  
"No, I don't. Bugger off, Salven."  
"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Does your mother know that you have such a filthy mouth?" Salven said.  
"You keep my mother out of this!" Cora's eyes flashed and her voice rose a litte. Salven laughed.  
"Your buttons are so easy to push, you know that?" Salven said. "What next? Oh right. Your sister is an idiot and your father is a rotting heap of bones."  
Cora was ignoring Salven. She was instead watching a young man, who was in turn watching her.  
  
James Anthony Hulio Umbrella Inc Pilot  
  
He was a tall man, with longish brown hair that brushed the end of his earlobes, and intense green eyes. Cora broke her gaze to look at her watch, which now read 7:06  
"Oh bugger!" she yelped. "I'm late!" and with that, she sped off. 


	21. A Gift and a Trick

Cora, thank God, had not chosen to wear heels. She had chosen a pair of fancy flip flops that her father had gotten her to match the skirt. The throng on them was black and beaded intricately, and the sole was beautiful. It was, in short, the type of thing that Cora had never worn.  
There was a small knot of six other people at the front of the door. Cora hesitated before making her way between them. Most of them seemed to guess that formal wear was required, but the only other woman there was wearing a high turtleneck - albiet a sleeveless one - and a pair of jeans.  
"You're late, Cora." Scythe said.  
"Yeah." Cora muttered. "There was this thing ... never mind."  
"Alright, can we get introductions out of the way then?" Scythe said. "I'm Scythe, the Commander ... and, of course, the weapons and blade specialist."  
Well, he definately looks pleased with himself over that. Cora thought sarcastically. Then she gave herself a mental slap. Just because Scythe had reprimanded her for being late was no reason to turn into a frigid ninja bitch.  
"I'm Cobra." one of the men said. He looked like a typical marine. "Explosives specialist."  
I wonder if he ever took out a toilet with a cherry bomb? Cora was getting impaient, and her mind was beginning to wander.  
"I'm Ada, resident hacker hacker." the second woman said, brushing some of her jaw length brown hair out of her eyes. She had a slight grin on as well.  
"Tweek." another man said.  
That'd be a code name. Unless his parents were pyschos. Cora, be polite. Cora hated introductions. She gave a slight smile to herself.  
"I'm the combat specialist." Tweek shrugged.  
"Reeve, second in command." Reeve gave a slight hand gesture. "Another combat specialist."  
"Foxx, marksman."  
With all the introductions, that left only Cora.  
"Cora Merandez, stealth expert." she said, trying to be as casual as all the others. She thought she came off fairly well. She knew that she was the youngest one there, and she was earnest not to come off as a bubbly idiot. She was touchy about being judged on her age - she had always been given the low class jobs back in Mexico, businessmen, minor politicians, troublesome protestors, activists - the low pay jobs. And if she ever asked. 'Please, I'd like a higher class job' (you had to show respect to Copley, or he'd kill you. Odd, he was like Umbrella in some aspects), then you'd be laughed at or else get your pay docked.  
To her relief, no one inquired after her age, or laughed at her.  
"Right, shall we be off then?" Scythe said.  
"I uh, don't have a way to get around." Cora said. Great, now everyone would think as her as a dead weight.  
"Nah, it's OK. I checked with Umbrella, so they gave you a little gift."  
"What?" Cora was shocked. Umbrella giving Cora a gift? That was like having Copley give out pay raises. Or else Satan raising up from the cracks of doom to hit on Cora.  
No, wait, that had already happened. Salven was blantantly hitting on Cora.  
"It's pretty nice. Surprising, really." Scythe said. "It's in the garage if you want to go see it." he turned to the others. "You guys, drive yourselves. We're not doing a carpool."  
"Fine by me." Tweek said. The others gave various agreements as they headed out to the parking lot. Scythe turned to Cora.  
"You might want to hurry." he said dryly.  
"Sure, just give me the address and I'll be there in a flash." Cora grinned, then scrambled downstairs. Then her jaw dropped open.  
Before if Cora got a 'gift' from her employers, it would have been a slight token. A cheap necklace, a dinner, something similar to that. Never ever ever before had Cora had so much money spent on her.  
Before her stood a luxurious motorcycle. It was coated in blue flames, and the helmet was sitting on the back seat - with matching flames.  
"Holy shit." Cora said, shocked. "This is ... This is ... This is beautiful!"  
There was a note on the seat. There always was. Was all of Umbrella just horribly anti-social?  
Cora,  
Your trainer and teachers alike seem to be delighed in your progress. As was previously mentioned, Umbrella is very kind.  
Of course, you'll remember this gift as a gift from Umbrella. We were informed that your father often gave you small gifts when he came home. We, of course, cannot take your father's place. But we will try to do the same thing for you. After all, there's nothing better than a warm maternal figure in one's life, is there?  
Good luck with your new team. Although some of the higher ups have had doubts about this Hunter...  
  
Cora guessed that was Scythe. That was very interesting to know, that they had doubts about Scythe. Did Scythe know? And what ever happened to people who got fired anyways? Cora turned back to the note:  
He will no doubt lead you well. He was trained by Umbrella, after all.  
Oh, this reminds me ... the last words of your father. I don't believe that you ever learned of them. I apologize for not informing you sooner. They were "Please, Umbrella, look after my daughters. Keep them safe." Of course, we intend to honour this wish. Don't get hurt, now!  
-Gabriel Turnbull  
  
Cora was livid when she put the note down. Her father's last words was 'Make sure that my blood doesn't stain the money in my pockets!" How dare Umbrella do something like this? Cora had no choice though. She was secured tightly to their puppet strings, and she would have to dance to their flute. 


	22. Ice Breaker

With a sigh, she climbed onto the motorcycle - albiet awkardly in her skirt, and pulled on the helmet. It contrasted sharply with her flipflops and skirt. Cora had used to own a motorcycle, but it had been nowhere as lovely or as new as this one. Her old one had been an old metal clanker always a step away from the junkheap. With a roar, the motorcycle cleaped into action. Cora very nearly lost control out of sheer surprise, but she hung on and managed to steer the thing out of the garage and down the roads. There she was allowed more freedom, and if it was a bit uncomfortable riding in a skirt, so what? She let out a cry of energy and joy as the motorcycle sped along the roads almost flawlessly. She had the address memorized in her mind, and of course punctuality was always a well loved trait among others - but that didn't stop Cora from doing a couple of donuts on an abandoned road. Finally, her face flushed and laughing slightly, she came to the resturant and headed inside. You know that your wardrobe is bad when your best still gets you a snooty glare inside a resturant. Cora felt her face turn red and glanced down at her attire. Black tank top, black skirt, black sandals."Can I help you, miss?" the waiter said. Her voice had a southern twang, and her hair looked desperately like it wanted to be wanted to be free of it's confining bun. "We don't seat children." Cora, extremely touchy about her age, might be excused for being blunt. "I'm an Umbrella employee." she told the woman. She knew that Umbrella must have some sway on civilians, being so huge, but she wasn't expecting this much. The woman turned ashen and her eyes very nearly popped out of her head. "An U-Umbrella E-employee?" Cora stared at the young woman, who looked like she wanted the ground to open up beneath her feet and send her plummeting into the core of the Earth. Of course, she had made a jab at Cora. And those rude glares. "Right. That's what I said. An Umbrella Employee. I'm meeting with a bunch of friends. From work. Can you please lead me to my table?" "Right! Of course!" the young woman stammered. "My name is Janice, and if you need anything at all during your stay here, I'd be pleased to send it to you." "I'll remember that." Cora said smugly with all the satisfaction of someone who has just one-upped a foe. "Now, can you please lead me to my table?" "Right! I'llÉ" without another intelligble word, the young woman pratically dashed away. Cora managed to follow her, but she couldn't keep the triumphant smile off her face. The table was full except for one or two seats when Cora got there. It was Ada who arrived last, muttering about traffic. The waitress dished out menus. Cora scanned past blase chicken and pasta entries. "Don't you have anything spicy?" she asked the waitress as the others ordered. "We uh, have our Spicy Pasta Platter Deluxe." The waitress said. "I'll take it. Oh, and a bottle of Tabasco Sause, please. If you have any." "But, uh, Miss É" the waitress floundered for a moment, before regaining a train of thought. "Right. Um, whatever you want. I'll go get it." "Thank you." Cora said sweetly. The waitress took the rest of the orders from the group and scrambled away, sweating profusely. This, of course, left them all to do the awkward small talk expected at these sort of gatherings. There wasn't much talk about pasts - that was to be expected. Reeve and Ada mentioned something about the FBI. Tweek remained silently. Scythe only said that Umbrella wasn't his first career. Cora shifted uncomfortably on her chair as the waitress arrived. She wasn't sure if she wanted to delve into her past. Angry and Srawny, Amelia, Copley É they were all things that weren't front and foremost in her mind anymore. After the various clinks of plates and drinks being settled down were silenced, the small talk started up again. Cora generously poured tabasco sauce on her spaghetti. "What's with the waitress?" Foxx asked. Cora tried to look innocent. There was a round of laughter. "What did you do to her?" Tweek asked, grinning. "Nothing!" Cora rose her hands defensively. "It, well, it was an accident!" "Accident my ass." Scythe said, but the subject of conversation shifted away from the awkward blemish and onto something even worse. "So, what did you do before you joined Umbrella?" "I was an assassin." Cora said in a matter of fact way. "No shit?" "I shit you not." "So you killed people for cash?" Cobra asked, eyeing Cora with what looked like distaste. Cora stared back defiantly. "I'm sorry." she said. "Was I supposed to let my family starve to death? Morals are cheap. They don't put food on the table. I'd be surprised if a goody - two - shoes lasted in Mexico for a week. Besides, you really think I wanted to become an assassin? I wanted to become a lawyer!" "Oh." Cobra said. Cora turned back to her pasta and gulped it down. The familiar tingling feeling that anyone who wasn't used to sticking dehydrated flame into her mouth would describe as ÔAhhh! My face is melting!' entered her face almost immiediately. She had used up the entire bottle of tabsasco sauce, she realized. Surprisingly - and possibly with the expensive champagne that they ordered - the group loosened up. Cora found herself speaking anamatedly to Ada about Amelia, and Ada didn't look bored. Tweek, Foxx, and Scythe were laughing over the story of Scythe blowing a man in half, and Cobra and Reeve were speaking in low voices. Suddenly, another man came up. His face was flushed from tailing the waitress, and his breath came in short pants. "Um, it appears that a late arrival has appeared for your party. That is alright?" "A late arrival?" Scythe's eyes were sharp. "Um, yes. That'd be me." The new arrival was fidgeting. "I was uh, sent here by an Irene Dinzali. I was uh, kicked off of Gamma Team because of her." anger showed in the thin man's face, but then he went back to being nervous. "Oh, so she sent you here?" Scythe's face promised words for Trainer Dinzali later. "Uh, yes. If it's any help, I'm a Tactics Specialist." Cora sighed. This was great, just great. The man was only digging his own grave. "Alright. Sit down." Scythe commanded. The rest of the group was looking at the Tactic Specialist with cold eyes. Anyone who was such an idiot couldn't be up to their calibre. "My name is Jonas Best." he offered. "His name is a blantant lie." Cora muttered. Ada gave a slight laugh. Best appeared to have heard this, his ears turned red. What did he expect? The guy wasn't going to have an easy time of it here. 


	23. Social Butterfly

The dinner was, overall, a success. Except for Best. He had ended up hungry. The team had offered him their left overs - two pieces of garlic bread, the remainder of Cora's pasta, and half a bottle of champagne.  
The problem was, Cora's spaghetti was spicy - even by Mexican standards. By poor Jonas' standards, it was equivalent to eating fire. The man, in an attempt to douse the flames, had ended up downing the entire bottle of champagne.   
Drinking half a large bottle of bubbly isn't the best idea, especially if you've never had a high alcohol tolerance in the first place. By the time Cora left, plans were arranged to bring Best home in the back seat of Foxx's car.   
Still laughing, Cora entered Umbrella HQ. To her surprise, the pilot she had spotted earlier was lounging against the wall.  
he said when he spotted Cora. Out partying?  
Think of it as a social gathering of future killers. Cora said, her tongue quite loosened by the bubbly and her new gift and everything in-between. She bit her lip. Stupid thing to say, really. Not that she cared. To her surprise, Hulio laughed.  
I'm James Hulio. You're Cora Merandez?  
That's the name. Wear it out all you like, I never use it. Cora said. Cora was thinking, a bit dazed, that if she met this semi-drunk Cora in the street, that the sober Cora would kick the dazed Cora's ass. Just on principle for being such a godforsaken idiot. To her surprise, Hulio laughed again.  
You're a clever little lady, aren't you? Then he eyed her and grinned slightly. Well, not that little.  
It was the sort of comment that is altered by whoever said it. If Salven said it, Cora would snap his scrawny neck and spit on his corpse. But instead, James Hulio said it and Cora merely scowled . That bought another laugh from Hulio, and Cora forced herself to crack a smile.   
Ha, ha. she finally said sarcastically.  
Good to know you have a sense of humor. Hulio said. Cora gave a more genuine smile. So, he wasn't a total creep.  
Can't live without one. Well, you can at Umbrella anyway. Cora regretted it the instant that she sad it. She had made the same comment to a couple of scientists, and they had gotten all pissy.  
Yeah. I've met with Spencer himself, you know. Guy's a prick. Hulio said casually. Cora merely choked. Hulio frowned. You OK?  
For a second I thought you had a stick up your ass. You surprised me. Cora said weakly. Hulio laughed again.  
So I heard that you broke the record for the stealth course.  
The record was pathetic. More like I set a record. Cora said.  
Still , you're turning heads. A lot of the USF are talking about this Team Biohazard that Scythe's forming.  
Oh yeah? What are they saying? Cora said. Maybe it was the champagne, maybe it was something else, but there was no need for ice breaking with Hulio. The ice was already broken. Shattered, even.  
Hulio hesitated, glanced at Cora, and then shrugged.  
Never mind.  
Oh, come on. Cora said. You really don't think I'm going to get offended?  
Forget it. They aren't saying anything.  
Oh, yes they are. And I intend to find out. Cora threatened. Hulio cracked a smile.  
Wild horses couldn't drag the secret out of me. he said. My mother always used to say that. Drove me insane.  
So don't drive me insane. What are they saying? Cora said. Hulio shook his head.  
If wild horses couldn't, then a kid like you can't either.  
Cora drew her knife, hardly breaking her stride as she blocked Hulio's path and filed a finger nail.  
You want to test that? Cora asked casually. Hulio hesitated again, then grinned.  
You've got me over in a barrel. Okay, I'll talk. Just don't stab me.  
I won't make any promises.  
Pretty much, there are people who think that Team Biohazard is a joke. They think that it isn't going to survive past the first mission. You have to understand, most of the older vets Dinzali, for example, I know you know her they're Umbrella Families. They've invested in Umbrella for as long as possible - to the point where they're willing to pick up weapons and fight for Umbrella and where Umbrella points. So they're a little touchy about a one time survivor getting his own team.  
What's with the stick up ass epidemic here at Umbrella? You think at least one person here who isn't a soldier wouldn't be a prick. Uh, no offense.  
None taken. Anyways, they're saying that Team Biohazard is more of a danger than the B.O.W.'s themselves. That it's lead by a jumped up rookie who thinks that having a sword makes him hot shit, and that he's backed up by someone with lead for brains. Oh, and they seem to think Foxx and Tweek are terrified of their own shadows, that Cobra will mistake a survivor for a zombie or vice versa and end up getting his head bit up, and that the hacker is just a computer nerd allowed on the team just because she's a woman.  
Cora said, with a bit of a frown. And what are they saying about little ol' me?  
They're, uh  
Come on. I can survive knowing that a few pricks like Dinzali think that I'm a sloppy stealth expert or that my knives are outdated weapons or that I have my nose in the air. I'm not going to wilt like a delicate little flower.  
Hulio said cautiously. They're not very happy.  
No shit? Come on, I want details. I find them hilarious, actually.  
Well, they think that you're no better than some other kid found off the street. A couple actually got quite racist. They used words like well, uh   
I can guess. Cora said cooly. Wetback? That I really longed to get into America? That I feed off the streets?  
Well, I think the exact words were that Cora Merandez is a jumped up little urchin off some grimy streets who thinks that she can make her way with the big boys. She isn't even an adult - she's just a little kid who made friends with the right people. Hulio looked nervous.  
I'm not going to bite your head off. Cora laughed. Don't worry. I've been called worse, James. I'm surprised that they didn't call me a slut or a whore. Or made fun of the fact that I like spicy foods. Or that my eyes are blue. I mean, they're obviously struggling for material there.  
Hulio said cautiously. They could tease you for being asked out on a date?  
Well, I haven't been asked out on a date. Cora responed, sheathing her knife.  
You want to head out to check out a club or something this weekend? Hulio blurted.  
Yeah, sure, that'd be great James. Cora said. It was the bubbly speaking, but the rest of Cora didn't seem to have a problem with that.  
Great. I'll talk to you later. Hulio winked and strode away. Cora hesitated before moving on. One minute she was a normal girl, the next she was assailed with dates, zombies, and angry soldiers. Who knew life could get so complicated?


	24. Briefing

Cora woke up feeling odd - and not from the faint hangover that she had. The type of feeling that you get on the first day of camp, or on the last day of school. Expectancy. Urgency. Nervousness. She yawned and dressed in black cargoes and a white t-shirt, then braided her hair and headed outside. Odd, she had half expected a note - from Dinzali, Turnbull, or Scythe. Maybe even one from James Hulio.  
I'm becoming such a popular little girl. Cora muttered to herself as she tied her sneakers, then strode outside. She had nothing to do. She could go train, but after finding out that her guts were hated and she was considered an outcast, she decided that that wouldn't be the best option. Besides, her head throbbed and she felt slightly queasy.  
She wasn't bored enough to seek out Salven, and she wasn't well accquainted enough to look up any Team Biohazard member.  
_ iWhat, so you'll die along side them, but you won't invite one of them out for a cuppa? Weak./i _she thought scornfully, brushing her braid back over her shoulder. It wasn't near the magnitude it had been in Mexico, but it kept her hair out of her face.  
Cora sighed. Maybe she should just go to the shooting range. She turned around in the direction that she thought the shooting range was in, when Jonas Best came racing up to her.  
he practically whispered.  
What's the need for secrecy? Cora asked. Best winced.  
Not so loud! he hissed. My head feels like hell.  
Didn't you take an aspirin?  
Yes! I took three! Now will you shut up and listen? Best said in a voice more near normal pitch. Cora supposed that was supposed to be a shout. Scythe has summoned Team Biohazard.  
To where? Cora asked. She only knew where six things were in this sprawling maze. One, her room. Two, the gym. Three, the cafeteria. Four, the shooting range. Five, the bathroom.  
Briefing Room Number Six. It's our first mission. Aren't you excited?  
Cora said truthfully. There was a sinking feeling in her stomach, and her headache was forgotten.   
Well, come on. Best said, then paused and pulled a small black contraption out of his pocket, tossing it at Cora. Cora snagged it out of the air.  
It's a pager. he explained. That way, when it's time for a mission you can come without any difficulty.  
Cora clipped the pager to her belt. Best scurried off without another word, and Cora followed him. The floor steeped, showing that they were going underground. Finally, they reached a freshly painted door, and Best swung it open.  
That took you quite a while, Jonas. Scythe said sharply from his place, lounging against the wall. The others were sitting around the table in varied stages. A couple looked nervous, most looked cocky.  
Well, it took me a while to find her. Best defended himself. Scythe paused.  
Scythe said softly. Best didn't correct himself, but sat down. The team glared at him, as a team united against an outsider.  
Sir, what are the conditions? Ada asked.  
Right, Ada. This is a perfect first mission. Nothing too difficult, as long as nothing goes wrong.  
Of course, anything could go wrong. Reeve said. Scythe nodded.   
Right, so keep on your toes. This is one of those things that you really have to be talented to screw up at - Scythe glanced at Best, who's ears turned red, But if anything changes, then it's a whole new ball game.   
This is a thing subject to change? Cora asked nervously.  
You'd know, Cora. This is an assassination. Scythe grinned at the expression on Cora's face. Here's the deal. The Finance Minister of Canada has been using the salami effect to bribe Umbrella for twenty years. Lately, the funds have been diverted into another company. HCF. So we go in and we leave a calling card - the Finance Minister's body. Anyways, this is one that Ada, Cora and Best are going to have to plan out in detail.  
Why me? Cora spluttered at the same time that Ada asked Wait, you want a_ hacker_ to plan out an assassination?   
Ada, we need you to take out any alarm systems that'll be set up in this man's estate.  
I can take out electricity for an entire block , if that's what you need. Ada nodded.  
Best, I need you to help us with tactics.  
I can do that. the everpaling Best was saying.  
And Cora, you'll be the only one of us who's ever done something like this. We're going to need you to work out the details.  
Yeah, sure. Cora nodded, exhaling. That didn't sound so bad. Best was looking positively ill though.  
What's wrong with you, Jonas? Tweek grinned, leaning back in his chair. It's not like we have to face zombies yet. Just a few guys with guns. Oh, and maybe HCF if they show up.  
Jonas looked like he was about to throw up the contents of his stomach over the new briefing table.  
Relax. Just soldiers. Scythe raised a hand. Right. Let's get to work.  
  
Best, Ada, Scythe, and Cora were all around the table, talking under their voices.  
I'd say vents usually for a situation like this, but that's not going to be well for a large amount of people, and besides - the security's taken out. Cora examined the 3-D map that Ada had pulled up on her computer.  
What if we were to charge the front? Scythe asked.  
Best was in his element, and despite looking still like he was abotu to throw up, he was actually showing some intelligence. No, that wouldn't work. They'd throw everything they had at us, and we'd be stuck at the front. The best thing to do is to have a distraction, and have a specially made team go in for the kill.  
Ada said.   
Right. Cora, you, Best and me will go in for the kill. Scythe said.  
Cora said. Don't you think I'd be better suited for the distraction team? she didn't want a weight on her shoulders. She wanted to be able to do something of little signifigance, something that was suiting for a first mission. But she knew that she couldn't look as nervous as Best, who looked like he was about to faint.  
No, don't worry. I'll be there, and I'm probably the person on the team who'd be best for backup for you. Scythe said. Best can help with small things that come up along the way.  
Cora said, rubbing her left temple to sooth the pain that was forming there. OK. I just don't want to die. I have a date, and I want to see Amelia again.  
You're not going to die. Scythe said. Unless if another USF member comes across you. They are _pissed _that we got the brand new briefing room.  
They are?Cora asked, feeling a bit more interested.  
Oh yeah, it was pretty funny. Scythe said. Go suit up. You'll get through this fine.  
If I don't, you're paying for the funeral. Cora said, standing and giving a nod before striding away.


	25. Entry

  
Cora's biohazard suit was custom- made, but that didn't ease her fear any. It didn't even appear to be a biohazard suit as much as a carefully complied outfit to meet certain standards.   
A tight fitting blue long sleeved turtle shirt, not quite a sweater, was tucked under a gray bullet proof vest with the red and white Umbrella switched above her left breast pocket.  
If anything goes wrong Cora hesitated as she gave herself one check over in the mirror. Her gray baggy pants didn't whisk against each other, which was good, and her booths each had a dagger in them. Cora should be fine.  
Then why did she have an impending feeling of doom in the pit of her stomach? The feeling that she was about to get in over her head? She told herself that this was fear and ignorance about what lay ahead. She was afraid that she was fail, and HCF and armed guards  
Cora shook her head to clear it. She was panicking, but no doubt things would turn out for the better. Right? One thing was for sure - there was no way that Cora was chickening out. She could just imagine how everyone would taunt and point.  
She headed to the launch pad. The others were all in the copter - except for Best.  
Hey, Cora. You okay? Scythe asked, helping the light girl into the copter  
Yeah, I'm fine. Cora lied.  
You look pale.   
I'm always pale. Comes from staying inside with all those scientists. Cora joked. There was a general bout of chuckles from.  
Best is pathetic. Foxx said, leaning his head back against the headrest and wearing a slight sneer. Late, late, late. Why can't he just buy a watch?  
Lower your standards, soldier. Scythe said, but he didn't sound like he meant it.   
Sorry, sir, but I like to have anyone who's going to fighting alongside me to meet my standards.  
Fair enough. Just don't let me hear you talking about Best, or we'll only catch more heat.  
Yes, sir. Foxx said, looking more irritated at Best than amused at Scythe. Cora swallowed against as Best came running up.  
Jonas Best, why were you late? Scythe said. He had placed a stern look upon his face. Best looked distinctly ill.  
I threw up. he said. Sorry, sir.  
You threw up. Scythe's face was blank.  
Um, yes. I threw up. Best looked even more nervous, giving him the appearance of a man in his last stages of life. Scythe snorted as Best managed to seat himself. To Cora's disappointment, the pilot was a young man with a mop of flaming red hair rather than Hulio.   
Look at Cora. Scythe said before the roar of the engines could drown him out. She's nineteen, and she has a better ethic than someone seven years older than her! Scythe gave a disgusted snort, and before Team Biohazard knew it, they were off.  
  
There was thick ivy growing up the side of the estate.  
That's the way we'll be going. Scythe nodded.  
I don't like heights. squeaked Jonas Best.  
Cry me a river. You're going up there anyway. Scythe pushed him. You can test it for us. If it's not deeply rooted, you'll fall and die. Fun, eh?  
Reeve said. No salutes for him - him and Scythe were bros'.  
Yeah, bro? Scythe asked.  
When should we charge and hold any guards at bay? Reeve asked.  
Whenever you can't see us anymore. Scythe said. Seeing how it was night, Cora estimated that it wouldn't take long. They would have to climb quickly. all right, Best, up you go.  
With all the enthusiasm of a man on Death Row, Best took two handfuls full of ivy and hoisted himself up, catching himself from falling with a foot. Then he began to climb steadily. Despite looking like he wished that a sniper would take him off the side of the wall, he was moving quickly. A surprise, coming from Jonas.  
I'll go next, sir. Cora said, uneasily pulling herself up the side of the ivy. She had gone rock climbing a few times before in Mexico, but it hadn't been quite so leafy or unstable. The plants felt delicate and glossy, like Cora's hand would slip right them off. Even the dusty dryness of a rock formation was better than this. Finally, Cora reached the top. She stooped to retie her boots and then she wiped the beading sweat on her forehead.  
All right, Cora, head on in. Scythe said. Best, you cover her. If anything touches her, you won't survive her long if you could have helped her.  
Stay close to me. hissed Best.  
I don't need _you_ to tell me what to do. Cora replied sarcastically. You're the Eternal Screw-up, thanks.  
Best turned slightly green, and there was a look of vengefulness that Cora didn't want to consider in his eyes. Besides, the guy was a wimp. There was nothing that he could do to take her out. Cora smirked and continued on.  
There was a yell, and Cora pivoted smoothly to put a bullet in the stomach of a tall man in an HCF uniform.  
Captain Wesk the man's gurgle was cut off by a blast of Best's gun.  
Scythe swore. He's here.  
He, sir? Cora asked. If she didn't know better, she would say that this was shaping out more like a horror novel than an assassination.   
Wesker. I know him by name. Look, Cora, Best If you see a tall, blond man, wearing shades run like hell and radio for back up.  
Cora nodded slowly. Quite frankly, she didn't know why she was being ordered this, but she might as well remember it.  
Alright. Now, let's move out. Kill the Finance Minister, and get out. Scythe moved forward. Carefully, carefully. Then he kicked open the door at the end of the hall and burst in with his gun firing. Three guards went down silently, one let out a high, strangled scream. Only one was a personal guard of the Finance Minister. Three were HCF.  
This is turning into such a great day. Cora groaned. Scythe ignored her, unclipping his radio.  
Scythe said simply. I've gained entry and I'm in room 3-B. Which way?  
  
Scythe reclipped his radio and kicked open the door. There was a short hall way, the walls decorated with enough timeless pieces to make Cora feel oddly like she was in a museum.  
Best suddenly burst forward, tossing a small gray cylinder into the next room. Smoke began to hiss, filling the room with a gray haze. There was only one guard, who was shot in the kneecap by Cora.  
Which way? Best said. Cora didn't hear the answer - it was drowned out by the moans and shrieks of the guard.  
Which way? Cora repeated the question to Best.  
Best seized Cora's forearm with strength that reminded Cora disturbingly of Salven and tugged her down the left hallway. They trudged along until the air was clean of smoke. No Scythe.  
The Eternal Screw-Up strikes again. Cora said to the sky.  
Best said. I know a way to head off Scythe.  
How the hell should I trust you?  
Ada and I studied the maps until I could navigate this building in my sleep. Come on! Best tugged Cora down the hall so feriociously that she just gave up. How lost could they get, anyways?


	26. Turn on the Fan

"Best, as soon as we find a way out of here, you are so dead." Cora threatened the scrawny man.  
"I could have sworn that ..." Best rubbed the back of his head, confused. Cora considered hurting him, but he did seem to have a reasonable knowledge about the locations of such facilities as the bathroom. He seemed to be steering them into concentrations of thick HCF guards.  
"I thought we were heading away from the action and to the Finance Minister?" Cora asked.  
"Shut up." was Best's only responce. Cora followed him just because he was a familiar face, an extra gun, and he had more knowledge than Cora did. Cora knew that she was basically screwed no matter what she did, but she was still fairly confident that they would come across Scythe or another Team Biohazard member. Then they would take care of everything, Cora would escape, Hulio would be impressed at her skills, ect.  
They had reached the end of yet another hallway, and from the distance they had walked, Cora was willing to bet that they had reached the other end of this enormous house. Why would one man need all this? Oh right, Umbrella had probably paid for it all.  
Cora and Best both creaked open the door at the same time and bursted into the room. It wasn't empty. Only one man stood in the center of the room, speaking quietly into the radio.  
He was perhaps a bit shorter than average height, but the presence he was emitting made up for his lack of height. With blonde hair that was slicked back. Shades were hiding his eyes, he was clothed in less protective gear than the rest of the Team Biohazard or HCF units.  
"Oh, this is a surprise." he drawled.  
Wesker. Cora thought, unclipping her radio.  
"Hello, I've encountered Wesker and I'm calling for back-" Cora didn't finish her sentence as Wesker's slid the glasses slightly enough to reveal golden eyes, shot though with red - and slitted like a cat's.  
Cora froze on the spot. All the training that she had had was completely out of her mind. Her brain was blank. The radio fell from her hand, bouncing and rolling to a stop somewhere between Cora and Wesker.  
Cora turned around. Best was gone, but the door was wide open and footsteps were pounding away. Jonas had bolted. Cora turned back round to face Wesker, who hadn't moved. His face had shifted slightly to show a bit of amusement. It was the expression of a cat who knows that he is about to have a bit of fun with a mouse.  
One frantic thought entered her mind. If she radioed, then Best and Scythe and Tweek and Foxx and the others would come save her. Without another thought, she flung herself at the radio, literally diving for her salvation. Before she could grab the radio, Wesker pratically blurred over and picked up the radio.  
"Looking for this?" he said softly. Then his fist clenched and the radio cracked and was totally destroyed. Cora whimpered and scrambled to her feet, backing away.  
"I'm armed." she fumbled out her Glock. "Get away from me!"  
There was another blur, and then the gun was knocked out of her hand. Cora drew two of her daggers. They were knocked away. She drew two more. They were knocked away.  
"Maybe you should just give up?" Wesker asked.  
"Get away from me!" Cora repeated frantically. He grinned maliciously, then seized her by the collar with both hands and slammed her against the wall. The breath came rushing out of her lungs, and she had to struggle to keep her vision straight.  
"Now, you had better listen carefully." Wesker hissed softly. "Don't think that you have any protection because I need you?"  
"What?" Cora asked, feeling dizzy. "Please, this is only my first mission. I don't want to die, please!" She was begging for her life with a monster. Best is dead. Cora decided. DEAD!  
"Ssh." Wesker said. "Calm down. You're no use to me unintellegable." He released Cora, who slid down the side of the wall to sit cross-legged and try to rally her wits. Wesker watched her carefully.  
"Alright then." he finally said. "What's your name?"  
Cora stared at Wesker. Her name?  
"What's your name?" he repeated, a note of irritation entering his voice. Cora squeaked.  
"M-my name is C-Cora. Cora Merandez." Cora drew her legs up and wrapped her arms around her legs as a measure of protection from this man.  
"And you're part of the Umbrella Special Forces team that was sent here. Team Biohazard?"  
Cora hesitated, then nodded.  
"How many people came here?"  
Cora didn't trust herself to say no to this man, so she simply shook her head. Wesker tsked.  
"You don't seem to understand." he said quietly, but before he could explain what Cora didn't understand, she struck. Sliding out one of her remaining daggers, she struck. The knife slipped smoothly into the breast bone. Wesker stared at Cora for a moment.  
"Take that." she panted.  
"You do have balls, I'll give you that." Wesker's voice was unstrained, his face showing nothing. He yanked the dagger out without ceremony and threw it back over to the others.. "However, it doesn't seem that you have much else?"  
"Huh?" Cora drew a blank. She had stabbed him.Stabbed him! And he was acting as if she had simply flicked him. She stared at him, then swallowed.  
"Miss Merandez, it is in your best interest to cooperate."  
There was shouting in the distance, and Wesker scowled.  
"Do you know who is making that racket? Rescuers, perhaps?"  
"I ... I don't know."  
"You sure?"  
"Yes."  
"Fine. Then we move again." Wesker seized Cora again, swinging her over his shoulder. He paused. "You may feel a bit queasy."  
Cora hammered her hands against his back as hard as she could.  
"You let go of me!"  
"Sorry, doll. I have orders."  
Cora opened her mouth to scream, but she lost her breath as Wesker was suddenly moving so fast that her stomach jolted. What was going on?! 


	27. The Eternal ScrewUp

"Christ..." Cora said groggily when Wesker finally stopped. "I think I'm about to hurl."  
Wesker glanced at the pale faced girl, and then put her down none-to- gently.  
"Traveling at high speeds can be ... sickening." he said without a trace of mirth in his voice. Cora sat down and took a few calming breaths. If she didn't throw up, she would be lucky. "Now, a nice quiet spot will be better. You're easy enough to handle, but the last thing I need is a pesky USF team on my tail. They've already killed more than enough of my men."  
"I didn't do anything." Cora said quietly, rocking back and forth. "I don't even know who you are!"  
"My name is Albert Wesker." Wesker said, watching Cora warily. "And you work for Umbrella. You killed some of my men, and you are on your way to kill the Finance Minister. I'm afraid I can't allow that."  
"I'll go home. I'll, I'll..."  
"The only way that you are leaving here alive is as my prisoner." Wesker said. "You could prove to be a valuable source of information about Umbrella, if only we can get you to talk."  
There was suddenly footsteps coming steadily down the hall. Someone running. Cora opened her mouth to scream, but Wesker was too fast. He seized her hair, dragging Cora to her feet, and clamped a hand over Cora's mouth. Cora was furious, but she couldn't even bite Wesker.  
Cora glimpsed Jonas Best sneaking around the corner, fear in every movement that he made. Wesker chuckled.  
"Useless coward." he lowered one hand, and it came back carrying a Magnum. He aimed carefully, for what looked like a head shot.  
"No!" Cora screamed. The noise was muffled greatly by Wesker's hand, but she grabbed Wesker's wrist and jerked it away from Best. It was difficult, like pulling on a tree trunk, but the bullet hit the wall an inch away from Best's head, instead of killing him.  
Wesker stared at Cora, who was trying to tear away Wesker's hand and was screaming at the top of her lungs. Apparently, Best managed to hear enough to know that Cora was somewhere nearby and in danger, because he stared at where the bullet had come from and clearly mouthed 'Cora?'. But then he hesitated, and ran again.  
Wesker gave another laugh, and shoved Cora away. She hit the ground, hard.  
"I told you that you're not worth anything to me. Don't forget it." he told her, and fired once. The bullet hit her leg, and for a moment, Cora couldn't breathe. The pain was like fire, an inferno of agony burning in her leg. She writhed on the ground, her throat too tight to shriek. Finally, a throat ripping scream came from her, and she lay on the ground, trying to catch her breath and soothe the pain.  
"Fuck!" she finally managed to get out, clutching her leg. The gray of the pant leg was steadily staining with blood. "Fucking hell! You shot me!"  
"How many people?"  
"Eight." Cora said frantically. "Eight people."  
"Excellent." Wesker said. "Although, one of your little friends could come back, so I think it'd be best if we moved on. He scooped her up casually - not slung over his shoulder, but carried like a child, and strode down the hall.  
"Where are you taking me?" Cora demanded. Her leg still burned with a fury, and she felt slightly weak as her strength ebbed, but she would be damned if she let this bastard treat her like a child. It was bad enough from Scythe, or Best, or Dinzali - but from Wesker it was intolerable.  
"To meet an old friend of mine." Wesker told her.  
  
The guards had decided not to rush into the blood bath, which meant that Reeve and the others were waiting for Scythe, Best, and Cora to hurry up.  
There was a sharp scream from somewhere above them in the building. Foxx glanced at Reeve, waiting for orders.  
"That sounded like Cora." Foxx said.  
"We wait for orders." Reeve responded sharply.  
"Oh yeah? What if Scythe is dead?" Ada asked, typing away at her computer. Someone was trying to get the alarm going, she had informed them all, and most of her energy was diverted towards stopping that from happening. All of the other's face showed that fear - that Scythe was dead.  
"Oh, ye of little faith." Reeve sighed. "Scythe has gotten through Raccoon. You think some Canadians and HCF guys can stop him? Tweek, sit down. Cora probably is just injured. First Aid Sprays do burn."  
Tweek sat down, but he didn't look to happy about it.  
"Unless if Best stabbed her in the back." he growled.  
"Best didn't stab anyone." Reeve said. He was ignored.  
"Wouldn't surprise me. The man had a shifty look about him from the start. Showing up late, giving his name late ... There's no way anyone can be that dumb."  
"Guys, shut up!" Reeve snapped.  
"Just order Ada to do a back up check on Best. Then we'll know for sure that he's straight."  
"I am not ordering Ada to do a backup check on Best!" Reeve growled. "We wait!"  
No one seemed to happy about that, but they all settled down. Foxx closed his eyes and tapped his fingers on his knee, Tweek shifted and looked restless. The only sound was the drum of Foxx's fingers, the clacking of Ada's keys, and soft cursing from Cobra, who hadn't let up his steady stream of curses since Cora had shrieked.  
Then there were boots heading towards them, and someone who was clearly furious in the boots. Cobra reached into his vest and gripped something tightly. Tweek was on his face, gun pointed down the corridor. Foxx's eyes snapped open, but he didn't move beyond that - unless you counted tensing, being able to move in an instant.  
Scythe appeared at the end of the hall.  
"Ada." he barked.  
"Yes, sir?"  
"Find me the location of Merandez and Best, now!"  
"Right, sir. It'll take me ten seconds."  
"You have five!"  
"Best is in room 4-B." Ada said. "And he's moving hastily for the exit the same way that you entered the building."  
"Tweek, Cobra, go cut him off!" Scythe snapped. The two men nodded, Tweek rushing out of the building, Cobra pausing to salute first.  
"And Merandez ... Merandez was in room 17-B and she was there for quite some time, but then something went wrong. She went to room 8-B in less time than what's , well, humanly possible. Unless she flew, the sensor's messed up. Oh, she's on the move again. See, she's moving like lightning." Ada tapped her computer screen.  
"Let's go catch her then." Scythe said grimly.  
  
A/N: Look! I'm a cool kid as well!  
  
Anyways, thanks to Hello Captain and RamenKitty. You guys are, hopefully, my m8s.  
  
There will be more drama! 


	28. Fury

Nothing, nothing could be worse than this. Except maybe leaving with Wesker. Cora found herself wishing that Wesker would just shoot her in the head and get it over with.  
"Sit down." he had ordered her, when they had reached the Finance Minister's office. She had sat, still clutching her leg and trying to keep the blood in. The two had spoken for quite a while.  
"You can't just evacuate."  
"Why the hell not?"  
"You're a man in the public eye, especially with that scandal last summer."  
"That's died down."  
"People said that about World War II." Wesker was lounging in an easy chair, the Finance Minister was pacing.  
"The Risk Factor ..." he moaned.  
"Is not too high. As long as you stick with me and her." He jabbed a thumb at Cora.  
"She's Umbrella!"  
"For the moment, she's mine." Wesker said. "Tell the nice man your name."  
Cora stubbornly ground her teeth together. The amused look on Wesker's face became malicious.  
"I said, tell the nice man your name."  
"Cora." Cora said through clenched teeth.  
"Just Cora?"  
"Cora Merandez!" she spat, then leaned back in her chair and scowled. If she ever got her weapons back... She still had two knives though. One up one sleeve, one snuggled behind the back of her collar.  
Wesker and the Finance Minister went back to their talks. Slowly, carefully, Cora shrugged. The dagger slid down her sleeve slightly. She gave her arm a wiggle and the dagger came down a little more.  
"And how old are you, Cora?" Wesker said softly. Cora froze. The dagger could be seen through her sweater, it was so close to her hand. She cleared her throat and hid it as best as she could.  
"I'm nineteen." she said quietly. Wesker nodded, satisfied, and turned away. Cora struck. Before Wesker could move, Cora pounced, sliding the dagger into her hand and into the Finance Minister's heart. There was a look of surprise on his face as he toppled with a loud thunk. Cora wiped the dagger on her sleeve, and then made a ninth notch on her arm. Her leg burnt like fire to match the pain of the notch.  
Then Wesker grabbed her by the neck and pushed her up against the wall, blocking any air from entering her lungs.  
"Before I kill you." he hissed. "I am going to make you sorry you were ever born."  
Cora struggled to concentrate. The lack of blood and oxygen both were making her woozy.  
"You just did something very bad." Wesker said. "And in return, I am going to make you ..."  
Cora spat. It hit Wesker on the cheek.  
"You just have to keep on digging your grave, don't you?" Wesker growled. He flung Cora into the desk. Cora let out a cry as she hit the desk, and then lay still on the carpet. She couldn't strengthen the strength to move, let alone defend herself. Her arm was bending in a way that human arms were never meant to bend, and she had to bite her lip not to cry with the pain.  
Wesker kicked her in the ribs, and she gasped.  
"I am going to take you back to HCF with me, little kitten." he snarled, hoisting her up again. She would have screamed and clawed and bit and kicked and forgotten every bit of her training, if she could. Instead, she was stuck with Shades the Monster.  
"God, please, no!" she managed to gasp. Wesker gave a nasty laugh.  
It was then that the door opened and a grenade rolled in, a cobra engraved hastily on it. Wesker stared at it for a second, then grinned.  
"Goodbye, Cora." he said, tipping an imaginary hat. Then he simply dropped Cora dangerously close to the grenade ... and was gone.  
Cora tried to push herself away from the grenade. She figured she had seconds before it detonated. But she had no strength, emotional or physical left to even move.  
"Well, guess he fell for it." Cobra said, striding into the room.  
"What?" Cora whispered. Cobra grinned and pocketed the grenade.  
"See, Scythe?" he said, apparently not hearing Cora. "Having a fake on hand isn't a bad idea."  
"Fuck, Cobra. Your teammate is lying there half dead nad all you can do is brag?" Tweek asked, striding into the room. Cora wondered if she was dreaming.  
"What the hell happened here?" Foxx asked. Then Best was dragged in by Tweek and Ada, pale and trembling.  
"I warned Cora not to go this way!" he said, still shaking. The others stared at him.  
"What? You abandoned her!"  
"The headstrong girl thought that left was the right way to go. She grabbed me and pratically dragged me along." Best said proudly.  
Cora closed her eyes. She was going to die listen to Best crow and her teammates bicker.  
"Amelia, Mother." she muttered. There was a sudden, yet slight, pressure against Cora's neck that made her stir.  
"She's alive." Reeve announced. Cora felt herself get lifted up. "Christ, and hurt badly too."  
"We'll listen to both sides of the story once we get some help for Cora." Scythe said. "This way."  
"But, sir..."  
"Best, if you don't shut up, I'll kill you right now." Scythe snapped. "You're not getting yourself any brownie points."  
"Sorry, sir."  
Cora felt herself being moved. Groggily, she opened her eyes.  
"Guys?" she whispered.  
"It's gonna be OK, Cora. We're gonna get you help."  
"I wish I had just sold fruit on the street." Cora whimpered, feeling tears well up. "Then I could have been back home. It's my fault Father is dead. It's my fault that everyone is dead."  
"Cora, calm down. Everything is gonna be OK."  
"No, it won't. I ruined it all." Cora cried.  
"See?" Best said, then cried out as Scythe's fist connected with his jaw. 


	29. Awake To Deceit

When Cora woke up, it was oddly similar to her first awakening. She was staring at the white ceiling. Except this time, there was something wrapped around her leg, waist, and some sort of odd thing around her neck. Also, there was a cast on her arm. Cora suspected that the things around her leg and waist were bandages.  
"Oh, you're awake." a voice said. It was Linda, the nurse of yore. "Feeling better?"  
"Yes." Cora was certainly more well rested.  
"That's a surprise. You lost a lot of blood. Not only that, but you were shot in the leg. You also pulled two muscles in your neck, and your arm is broken. You also broke a rib."  
"How am I still alive?" Cora demanded.  
"You ask me." Linda asked. "There were four notes left for you."  
"I don't want to read them."  
"Too bad, all four people who left them said that they were 'urgent'. I'm not about to turn down a USF leader, supervisor and high- ranking pilot in one day. Oh, and that other young man."  
Scythe, Turnbull, Hulio. Cora was surprised and pleased at two out of three of those names. The 'other young man' confused her. White? Foxx? Tweek? Reeve? Cobra? Maybe even Best? Turnbull though left her feeling sick.  
"Can you give them to me" Cora asked.  
"Okay." the nurse handed Cora a small pile of papers. The one from Scythe was on top.  
  
Cora,  
You took a lot of bumps, I know. The nurse says you'll probably be awake by tomorrow morning. That's amazing, kid. You're made out of sterner stuff than I thought - that has to set a record for toughest rookie ever. All the others have made a pact to slug the next guy who says that you're a spic who can't do anything to save her life. You stood up to Wesker, that's impressive. However, Best is shooting off a story that you disobeyed direct orders ad lead him into danger. We'll see what he says when he finds out your awake.  
Anyway, if you don't get better soon, I'll sic Ada on you.  
-Scythe.  
  
"That's very nice of him." Cora said.  
"He doesn't talk like I thought a USF leader would." Linda sniffed. "He uses such brutish language."  
  
"You read my letters?" Cora was disgusted. Linda didn't answer.  
"Dear Cora,  
Maybe you should get into the pilot business? It's much safer. Anyway, I'll be stopping by later with chocolates and an idea that you won't be able to resist. I can't say more in this note, but it's dangerous, but it'll be worth it.  
Love,  
James.  
  
The one from Turnbull was, predictably, not as comradely as sharpish. Cora was sure that there was manipulation behind the words.  
  
Merandez,  
I'm sorry to hear about your injuries, although I am glad that you've given up trying to insult us subtly when the mood takes you! Umbrella has been kind to you, and maybe if you try to work off this kindness, such accidents won't happen in future.  
Your mother and Amelia are well, although they have not been allowed to see you.  
Here's hoping you get better in future.  
-Gabriel Turnbull.  
  
P.S. I have asked around and stopped the racial slurs circulating about you. Umbrella is a family. Hopefully, you haven't been put off by these jerks.  
  
He knew that Cora had been insulting them. Damn. Not that unexpected though, and not the thing that once would have sent chills down Cora's spine. The rest was confusing. It was kindness, cheerful even ... yet there was an underlying message saying that Cora was lacking something important.  
Cora scowled and turned to the fourth, mysterious note.  
  
Merandez! I heard you were hurt. That sucks, eh? Umbrella got me a new computer though. It was meant for you, but not like you can type with that busted arm though. Ha. I've been through three missions and without a single scratch. By the way, who's this Hulio who's bragging around about getting a night out with you? I asked, and you turned me down rudely. What does he have that I don't? And if you say ' not a wife', I swear to God I'll hurt you, cripple or no.  
-Salven  
  
Cora didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the fourth note. The others had been written with poise and elegance. The third was crudeness, hostility, and lust slapped together into a paragraph.  
Linda said that Turnbull had left strict orders that Cora be loaded into a wheelchair and carted around if she wanted to go anywhere.  
"Bullshit." Cora insisted.  
"It's the rules. Would you rather lie in bed all day?"  
"Fine. I'll take the wheelchair." Cora muttered. Linda fussed over blankets and pillows for so long that Cora wanted to scream. But she had to admit; it was comfortable, warm, and cozy.  
"Alright, where do you want to go?"  
"Where's Team Biohazard?"  
"Playing pool and making a ruckus is what I've heard." Linda sniffed.  
"Ok, where would they do that?"  
"The Gaming Hall." Linda admitted reluctantly, as if saying the words would corrupt Cora.  
"That's where we're heading then." Cora demanded. Linda muttered under her breath, but pushed Cora down to the Gaming Hall. Even injured, Cora never got a break. 


	30. Recovery

Best was speaking loudly and expressively to Foxx, Tweek, Cobra, and Reeve. None of them looked none too happy with what they were hearing.  
"So then," Best said. "Wesker went 'I've been looking for you , Best!' and I said 'What?' and he tossed Cora aside like a rag doll."  
"Really?" Cora drawled as she was wheeled into the room. Best stared at her.  
"I thought you were injured!" he spluttered.  
"I am. That's why I'm in the wheel chair." Cora said dryly.  
"Well, I was just informing the others of what happened on the Team Biohazard mission." Best said, puffing up his chest as if he was someone important.  
"Yeah, you mean how you lead me down the wrong path and how you ran?" Cora spat.  
Best was silent as the other team members glared at him.  
"I knew the filthy little rat was lying." Tweek said. Scythe was silent, but he had a hand where his sword hilt would be.  
"What says she isn't lying?" Best said shrilly. "I saved her! According to -"  
"Best, kindly shut up." Scythe said. "We're transferring you."  
"What?" Best's jaw dropped.  
"I think there's a new guy who you can replace ... Saline or Salon or Saven or something."  
Cora laughed out loud.  
"Salven?"she asked.  
"Yeah, that's the name."  
"That's great." Cora laughed. "The expression on his face will be great."  
"I'll talk to the Delta Team leader about this now, Best. I'll also let her know that you're a lying, sneaking weasel. Now, get out of here."  
Best slunk away. A braver man might have stayed or argued, but Best was beaten. He really was the Eternal Screw-up.  
  
Recovering was arguably painful, but it was also pleasant in quite a few ways. For one thing, she had lots of visitors. Members of Team Biohazard would drop in periodically. Or Amelia would show up with Mother. Or Hulio.  
One thing that startled and disappointed Cora was how different her family was looking. Amelia had once been a scrawny, pale girl with big eyes and braided hair. Now her hair was streaked with blonde and hanging loose all about her shoulders. She wore tank tops with enormous price tags and tight fitting jeans. She didn't look like the old Amelia at all. Also, she had insisted that Cora call her 'Amy' now.  
"Amelia was my old name." she explained to Cora. "Now, I'm Amy Merandez."  
"Fair enough." Cora had told Amelia , an odd feeling in her stomach. Before, even as Cora and everything around her had changed, Amelia and Mother had always remained the same. Now even Mother looked fresh faced, unworried, and rather rich in a high collared blouse the color of wine and a pair of black pants that matched her smart black shoes.  
"I was doubtful about Umbrella at first." Laine Merandez admitted. "But they've really come through for us. For the entire family."  
"Unless they killed Dad."  
"They didn't, he died in a car crash. And if he did, who cares? You're twenty years old now, Cora. You don't need your parents."  
"I might." Cora said defensively. Then she realized something - she was twenty. Her birthday had passed by without Cora even noticing it. Things were changing more than Cora would like. Back in Mexico, there would definitely be a celebration. Cora vividly remembered, back when Amelia was only five or so, having a cake so large that Cora had had to climb up on a chair to blow out the candles. Now ... it was just another day.  
To Cora's surprise, Salven came to visit on the third day - with a bouquet of red roses.  
"Hey, Merandez." he said with a half-wave.  
"Hey, Salven. How you taking being kicked off Delta Team?  
"It could be worse. I have experience under my belt now, and now I can turn my energy to ... other causes." he gave Cora what was probably meant to be a meaningful glance, but came out as if he was giving her the evil eye.  
"Sorry Salven, but your chances are negative. Besides, we both know that if Lydia wasn't constantly aruging with you, you wouldn't be trying this."  
"Lydia and I get along fine." Salven smirked. "She's just a bit modest."  
"Oh, for God's sakes." Cora shook her head, her hair swinging from side to side. At this point, Hulio came in.  
"Hey Cora." he said smoothly. He sounded fine, but he was looking at Salven and his roses with mingled disgust and confusion in his face. "Hey, aren't you the guy who got his pay docked for doing that stunt with that waitress?"  
"What stunt?" Cora asked. "I'm intrigued."  
"Oh, he went up to this waitress in this desturant and told her that ... she was like a trophy bass ... he didn't know whether to mount her, or eat her."  
"And?"  
"And she took his love spuds out with her foot."  
Salven was now glaring at Hulio like a weasel that's had his prey swooped up by an eagle.  
"That didn't happen." he said. The lie rang out clear in his mannerisms.  
"It probably did." Cora said. Hulio smiled at her.  
"Anyways, I got another reservation at that resturant."  
"That's superb, James." Cora said. Salven looked furious.  
"Now, you fucking listen here." he snapped at Hulio. "I'm bored, I'm looking for a lay, so back off."  
"Salven, I'll hurt you." Cora threatened from her bed. Hulio gave Salven a little shove.  
"Sure, mate. Good luck. Look, Cora, I gotta fly Delta Team off to the Carribean. I'll see you later."  
"Yeah, sure!" Salven said. His face was red and he was dancing from foot to foot. "More like you're trying to avoid the wrath of Salven!"  
"Quiet, weasel boy, I can't be late." Hulio gave Cora a quick kiss on the cheek and hurried out.  
"Yeah, you better run!" Salven snapped.  
"Salven?" Cora asked.  
"Yeah?"  
"Shut up."  
  
A/N: If you don't review, I'll hunt you down and kill you. Yes, you. 


	31. Goodbye, Love

Cora recovered quickly enough. She was in the middle of the headquarters of a pharmeceutical company, after all, so an entire host of medical equipment was on her beck and call, 24/7.  
She recieved a card from Best once, with a picture of a large teddy bear on the front and 'You're My Beary Best Friend on it!"On the inside was a long, pitiful note.  
Cora scanned through the note, picking up phrases like friends or Team Biohazard are quite self-asorbed, don't you think? or Anger is such an ugly thing, or I hope that you can reach deep inside your heart and forgive me, or even you are a beautiful young woman with a bright future, no doubt.  
Cora tore the thing in half, then in quarters, then dropped it without ceremony into the nearby garbage pail.  
Before long, Cora was striding about as usual. Scythe strictly forbade her from coming on missions with B.O.W.s or hostile forces. So Cora would spend her days, lounging about or yawning or playing cards with Salven or going out with Hulio.  
Those dates really were pleasent. Cora finally mustered enough courage to wear that blue dress that showed too much.  
"You look great." Hulio said, impressed.  
"As do you." Cora said, patting the jet black collar of his jacket, with a small red and white Umbrella stiched above the right breast pocket. Below that was a nice whit dress shirt, and black jeans.  
"I just threw this together." Hulio shrugged. "Look, Cora, can we go somewhere private? Somewhere where we can ... talk?"  
"Of course." Cora tilted her head. Her hair - which she had done into multiple braids - falling over her shoulder. Hulio caught her wrist gently, pulling her outside. Then he had glanced around.  
"I know you aren't happy with Umbrella."  
"No." Cora said softly. "I'm not." Her father, Amelia, Mother, herself. All casualties in their seperate ways.  
"I know a way out. Your mother and your sister are happy here, they can stay. But you ... you can come with me."  
Cora gave a brisk nod. Hulio, as if by magic, reverted back to his easy-going self, and they proceeded to have quite a night out. They had spaghetti and meatballs at a local resturant (Hulio wasn't too happy with Cora adding tabasco, but he managed to drink enough milk to drown out the fire). They went to a small club and danced the night away.  
By the time they came back to Umbrella, Cora hadn't forgotten about Hulio's idea, per se, but it was pushed to the side of her mind. Plus, she had downed quite a bit of alcohol. Hulio had to support a giggling Cora into Umbrella Headquarters.  
"Have a good time, Cora?" Hulio grinned.  
"Yeah." Cora gave a lopslided grin. "I had a spanktacular time." She gave another giggle.  
"You better hope that Scythe doesn't give you a mission tomorrow." Hulio sighed.  
"And why's that?" Cora said.  
"Because you are wasted. C'mon, let's get you to bed." Hulio pratically dragged her down the hall.  
"I'm not tired."  
"Oh, you'll be wanting to stay in bed all morning." Hulio laughed.  
Cora didn't protest any further as Hulio had to assist her into bed. He grinned.  
"I've never had a girlfriend before who could drink me under the table." Hulio said.  
"Well then , you haven't lived." Cora slurred. She was very slowly falling asleep. Hulio flicked the lights off, and left.  
  
Hulio grinned as he walked down the hall. She really was something, something more important than his job at Umbrella. He wasn't lying when he promised to find a way to bring her away from her USF team, away from this life which he knew she hated inside.  
"I won't fail you, Cora."Hulio promised softly. He continued down the hall, when his progress was blocked by two men. One, despite wearing a suit, held his Browning with ease. The other was dressed in full UBSC attire.  
"Hey, Mr. White." Hulio said. "Hello, Best. You need me to fly you out?"  
"No. We need you for other reasons."  
"And what would that be?" Hulio asked politely. White nodded at Best, and there was suddenly a sharp pain in Hulio's head as Best's gun came crashing down. Everything went black.  
  
When James Anthony Hulio awoke, there was a sharp pressure on his stomach, wrists, and ankles.  
"What?" he asked groggily. He tried to sit up.  
"Alright, a direct infection of T-Virus."White's voice drifted to Hulio's ears.  
"No! No!" Hulio shouted. Best peered at Hulio.  
"Sorry, mate." he said apologetically. "It's direct orders."  
"No! You can't do this to me! What have I done to you?" Hulio said.  
"T-Virus is abou to applied to subject." a calm, female voice said. Hulio gasped as he felt something pierce his right arm.  
"No! No!" he howled.  
"It won't take long for you to become a zombie." Best said calmly. "So I had better step back so you don't - "the rest of the sentence was cut of by Hulio's howls.  
"Get back, Best!" ordered White. "Scientists. Stage an outbreak. I want Cora Marie Merandez to be the one to neutralize the zombie." 


	32. I'm sorry

Cora woke up the next morning with a pounding hangover and a dry mouth.  
"Thanks a lot, Hulio." She muttered. "You sure set me up well for the night." She changed out of the dress and changed into cargo pants and a baggy black t-shirt. She felt like hell, there was no reason that she should dress up.  
She was already outside, and she had finished her epic struggle that was only made worse by her hangover with the lock, when she realized she had forgotten her motorcycle keys and her pager both.  
"Oh, this is just lovely!" Cora threw her hands up into the air and began to fumble with the lock again. Suddenly, the loudspeaker went off. Cora froze.  
  
There has been a minor outbreak in the residential areas. the woman said. The announcement was different than it had been last time, some how. If you are in this area, please neutrilize any B.O.W.'s you encounter. Thank you.  
  
"That's it?" Cora hissed, managing to open her door again. She grabbed her Glock. She'd take out this little mess, then maybe that announcement wouldn't go off to trouble her poor head. Besides, she knew very little about the T-Virus, but enough to know that if a zombie bit someone, then they would become a zombie too. It was a thing that could quickly elevate out of control.  
Cora headed down the halls, feeling miserable. She wasn't a Zombie Hunter. Why couldn't they send some on-duty units after this thing?  
Cora spotted the zombie, and she rose her gun.  
"Bring it on, motherfucker." she hissed. The zombie heard her and turned around with a groan. He was no prettier than the last zombie she had laid eyes on, nothing different than another zombie, except ...  
He was James Anthony Hulio.  
"James." the word brushed past Cora's lip before she could stop it. It was like her heart had stopped, or froze. Hulio simply shambled forwards, arms outstretched, closing the distance between the two.  
Cora shot once, but her hands were shaking so badly that the bullet hit Hulio in the ear. The ear - and a great deal of skin - fell off.  
"Jesus." Cora whimpered. "James, please, no. Please, let this all be a dream." Cora couldn't be silent, not in a time like this. "James!" she said louder.  
Hulio replied with a groan. Cora backed away.  
"James!" she repeated loudly. "Please, James, it's me, Cora!" Cora shrieked at the top of the lungs.  
Hulio seized her shoulders, bending his head into bite a mouthful of flesh off of her neck. Cora couldn't allow herself to kill Hulio, but...  
She brought her knee up and shoved off him off of her, as hard as she could. He went stumbling backwards, but resumed his steady march to gnaw at her.  
This was James, but ...  
"I'm sorry." Cora whispered. A tear slid down her cheek, unnoticed. "I mean ... I don't want to have to do this."  
Hulio responded with a slow grunt.  
"Goodbye, James." She squeezed the trigger until the clip was empty. By this time, all that remained of Hulio's head was tatters. Cora's knees gave way, and she was on the ground, staring at Hulio.  
His ready laugh and warm eyes and corny jokes and scruffy hair and oftentimes stubble and slow temper and everything else was gone, all gone, replaced with this travesty of a body in front of her.  
"Please, God." she whispered. "Let me wake up."  
The world remained determinedly fixed around her, refusing to change to mold to one mortal's wishes.  
Cora threw back her head and let out a howl of anguish. A howl of fury, and a howl of sadness. Then finally, she just lay there on the floor and sobbed. She didn't care anymore. She just didn't care whether they thought she was a dirty mexican, or whether of all of Team Biohazard were devoured by zombies. It was all going to end up the same way anyways. Cora would end up like Hulio.  
Was Cora's father a zombie somewhere in the underbelly of this facility? If Cora stepped out of line, would she have to shoot him, too? Cora, emotionally exhausted, didn't even bother to ponder this. She chose instead to lie on the cold, clean floor. The tiles weren't heated in here, like they were in the gym.  
"Good." Cora said viciously. "Maybe I'll die."  
  
It was a long while before anyone found her.  
"Cora?" Scythe asked as he stood over her. "Why are you lying on the floor?" he spotted the dead Hulio and put two and two together. "Oh." Cora didn't answer.  
"Get up, Cora." he said, nudging Cora softly with his boot.  
"No."  
Scythe seized Cora's left arm and pulled. She refused to react at all, acting like a dead weight.  
"C'mon, Cora!"Scythe fumed.  
"Let go of me!" she fumed right back. The last thing she needed right now was a jumped up soldier boy trying to hoist her up.  
"I'll drop you." Scythe threatened. Cora considered the pain of the drop.  
"Fine. Go right ahead." Cora stared at him defiantly. Scythe sighed, then scooped her up.  
"You need some sleep."  
"No, I'm not sleeping." Cora shook her head vehemently. "I'll have nightmares."  
"Consider it a direct order, Cora." Scythe kicked open her door and dropped her on the bed. She glared at him as he settled down in her rocking chair.  
"Now, you get to bed." he reprimanded her.  
Cora considered childishly retorting, but decided to at least rest her eyes. The short encounter with one zombie had taken so much out of her.  
"That's a girl." Scythe said encouragingly.  
Cora opened her mouth to snap at Scythe not to talk to her like that, but already darkness was beginning to shadow the corners of her mind.  
  
Why am I obeying him, anyways? Cora wondered, but it was too late. She slipped into sleep.  
Scythe stood up, watching Cora. Then he shrugged and headed outside. He needed to talk with Turnbull. 


	33. Ever Wooing Charms

When Cora woke up, the room was empty. An odd sort of comfort that had seized her faded away. Cora got to her feet wearily and trudged into the bathroom.  
Cora had always been a small woman - only slightly above average height, and thin. But now she looked like she had been through a wringer. The only thing truly alive about her were her eyes, filled with sorrow and pain. The eyes of a killer.  
She remembered how she had growled 'way to see me up for the night', and there was a painful twist in her stomach.  
"This is all my fault." she whispered. "All my fault, all my fault, all my fault." she continued the chant before letting out a weak sob. "Oh, God. I killed him."  
She made her way back to the bed and flopped down, staring into space. Her stomach growled at her, but she ignored it.  
"I'm sorry." she said. Like it would matter. No doubt the corpse was cleaned up by now. Hopefully, given a proper burial or cremation. Knowing Umbrella, it was more likely that Hulio was filled with T-Virus for a second time or else dumped in a ditch somewhere.  
"I hate you I hate you I hate you." Cora whispered. She didn't know whether she was speaking to Umbrella, her life, or herself.  
  
"Merandez won't be in any shape to go on any mission." Scythe said, lounging in his chair. "She's broken."  
"No. She's bent." White responded. Turnbull nodded.  
"That's bullshit and we both know it." Scythe growled. "You did leave a guard on her room? She's in bad condition. Suicide isn't out of the question."  
"Merandez isn't going to kill herself." Turn said.  
"She might."  
"She's only here because of her mother and sister, and they're only here because of Cora. Cut one leg of the tripod off, and the thing falls over. Cora knows, subconciosusly or not, that if she goes - so does Amy and Laine." White spat the names of Cora's sister and Mother. "Not that I'm arguing against it. The Merandez family are a drain on us. Not Cora, but she's too soft. I say we slaughter Amy and Laine."  
"No!" Scythe snapped. "The girl hasn't eaten, she hasn't even lefther room!"  
"How do you know this?" Turn asked softly.  
"I have Tweek making sure that she doesn't slit her throat. He's been watching her door and using the radios to report since lunch."  
"Resourceful as always." Turn said. "Give Merandez a week."  
"A week?" interjeced White angrily. "That's too much."  
"A week." Turn responded defiantly. "We want to mold her, not break her. She's no use to us if she's dead. Give her a week. Then you are taking her out on a mission."  
"What if there is no mission?" Scythe asked sarcastically. "Sorry, I can't pull an Outbreak out of my pocket."  
"Yes. But I can." White said. "I'll send out the orders."  
"You sick bastards!" Scythe growled.  
"Hey, be a sick bastard and you can get promoted too!" White jested. Scythe glared.  
"Fine." he spat. "But only if Cora is ready at the end of the week."  
"Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Hunter."  
"Go to hell."  
Scythe headed outside and exhaled. Dealing with Turn and White wasn't good. They weren't too high up that they declined dabbling their fingers under ordered, but high up enough that they were dangerous.  
Scythe didn't like playing with lives. He was no puppet master, just a man who made a few bad decisions.  
"I'm sorry, Cora." he said. "But at least I let you recover a bit."  
Like that would do any good, Cora wasn't even there to hear it.  
  
Ruben Salven straighened his hair and shifted the flowers in his hand before he glanced both ways down the hall. If anyone saw him here, it could end up very messily. He still remembered what happened last time someone had said to Lydia:  
"You like those flowers that Ruben got you?"  
"What flowers?" Lydia had responded. Lydia was a very smart woman, and it did not take her long to very nearly scalp the young scientist with the bouquet of wildflowers on her desk. Then, she had moved onto Salven. Bad memories there - bad memories including a frying pan and pain. The making up had been fantastic though.  
Salven headed around the corner to Cora Merandez's room. There was a man leaning aganist the wall, shuffling a deck of cards. He spotted Salven quickly.  
"Who are you?" the man demanded. He was armed - Salven was too, but shooting USF officers was dangerous.  
The man glanced at Salven's identification card and frowned.  
  
Ruben Robert Salven Umbrella Inc. Badass 4 Life  
  
"I don't think those are the type that we usually get." Tweek said dryly. He wasn't wearing one - USF and UBSC soldiers rarely did. They considered themselves above it, for some reason.  
Smug jerks. Salven hated his tag, although it was much better after he had asked that young woman who he often went out with on Thursdays to alter it. She had smiled, gushing that anything that she could do for her boyfriend was not enough.  
"No." Salven said, casually putting a hand on his gun holster.  
"So, how are your nuts doing? I hear that Lydia hit you with a frying pan."  
"How the hell do you know that?" Salven's ears turned red.  
"Lydia told everyone."  
"Look, Mr. Guard. It's OK if I go in and see Merandez, right?"  
"What, with your reputation?" Tweek scowled. "Don't do anything."  
"I'll try not to." Salven assured the guard and strode inside suavely. 


	34. Denied!

Cora's stomach growled at her and Cora said nothing back. She knew that someone was outside. She had crept, using every inch of her skill, past Tweek when he spoke on the radio and darted away to the bathroom. Then she had very slowly made her way back inside, waiting until Tweek was immersed in a game of solitare.  
And since then, she had laid immobile on her bed, refusing to move. The numbness was fading, and as it faded a pain replaced it. Cora sighed. Not only that, but she was becoming hungry.  
She didn't want the others pity though. She could picture it now. Lots of "I'm so sorry"s, maybe a couple "If you ever need to talk, I'm here"s. What would Cora need to talk about? How she was a murderess?  
The door swung open and Cora sat up. Had someone from Team Biohazard come in to check on her? Was Turn or Best coming along to screw her up a little bit more?  
It was Salven, holding a bouquet of red roses and grinning like a moron. He unclipped his tag before Cora could get a chance to glimpse it and smiled.  
"Afternoon." he said airly.  
"Salven?" Cora blinked. She hadn't seen him since he and Hulio had had a bit of a tiff.  
"God, Cora, you look like Hell."  
"Way to woo someone, you big idiot." Cora was slightly snappish. Salven looked taken aback.  
"What happened to the wise cracking wonder that we all know and love?"  
"She died with Hulio." Cora said flatly, and dove under the covers. Salven stared at the lump under the covers, feeling nonplussed. She wasn't going to start crying, was she?  
"Cora, get up."  
"No!" the voice was fairly muffled due to being covered with a thick comforter.  
"Everyone's talking about you." Salven finally said. "They've been waiting for Team Biohazard to fall, you know. And they look at you and go "one mission, and she's done!"  
One eye peeped out from underneath the blanket.  
"Really?"  
"Really really." Salven had found a cracked yellow vase - Amelia had made it in school, and dumped the flowers in, trying to arrange them prettily. He didn't know the proper way to make a bunch of roses look romantic, so he just stepped away.  
Cora sat up, suddenly, frowning.  
"Salven..." she said in a warning tone.  
"What is it?"  
"You know very well what I'm talking about!" some colour came into Cora's cheeks, and some of the pain was replaced by a snappish look. Salven gave a slight smile.  
"No. I don't. I haven't done anything."  
Yet. thought Salven, and giggled.  
"You're trying to hit on me!" Cora sat up defiantly, her face a flame with fury. Salven stepped back.  
"No I'm not."  
"Yes, you are!"  
"Listen, if this is about Hulio suddenly not being in the picture..."  
"It is! And you can forget it!"  
"But there's no loyalty issues..." wheeled Salven.  
"GET OUT, SALVEN!" Cora roared, her hand seizing around the closest thing to her. It seized on her lamp , and Cora tugged it out of it's socket and threw it at Salven .He ducked, eyes wide, then tried to resume his suave standing.  
"Oh, a feisty one eh?"  
"You're DEAD!" Cora was standing, exhaling like an angry bull. Her cheeks and ears were red, her eyes were filled with fury, and despite wearing only a pair of black silk shorts and a matching tank top, she managed to be intimidating.  
Noticing how Salven stared, Cora's entire face flushed red and she threw a coffeee cup at him.  
"OUT!" she demanded, pointing at the door.  
He got out. Tweek glanced up at him.  
"You made her mad, didn't you?"  
"You shut up." Salven ordered, rubbing his arm. Tweek grinned.  
"Maybe next time, try waiting until her boyfriend has been dead for a while?"  
"I said, shut up!" Salven said.  
"So, you manage to get her out of bed? I heard shouting."  
"That's nothing." Salven was turning red. "Nothing happened."  
"Ok, I'll ask Cora about it."  
"And, no doubt, she'll tell you about the great night that we just had." Salven winked, then headed down the hall.  
  
Cora sighed. What was Salven thinking?  
"He's a slimy little weasel boy!" she snarled furiously, then paced. Plus he was married, plus he had relations going with every girl who didn't know that he was married who didn't mind drowning in a few litres of grease.  
As Cora's anger faded, the pain didn't seem quite so severe as it had been. Cora flung on a black sweatshirt and a pair of blcak jeans with a hole large enough to fit a human head through. She pulled on her black sandals from that night where she had met Team Biohazard, then stepped outside.  
"Finally come out?" Tweek said.  
Cora nodded.  
"Hey. Look, it sucks. I think all of us have lost family. Just don't dwell on it, OK?" Tweek stood, giving Cora a one armed hug.  
Cora gave another desolate nod.  
"Thanks." she muttered.  
"No problem." Tweek shrugged. "Team Biohazard's a family. You learn to get along with your siblings, even if they do drive you crazy." 


	35. Retaliation

Cora was coaxed by Tweek to go get something to eat. Even with her stomach rumbling and a big plate of spaghetti in front of her, she didn't feel like eating. She instead amused herself by having Meatball A (christiened Roberto, King of the Gypsies) fight Meatball B (named Sir Renegald of Britian). Roberto was furious with Renegald for smoking a cigar in his presence.  
"Cora!" a voice snapped Cora out of her daze. She looked up. Tweek had gone to catch some sleep, so who could it be?  
It was Best. Cora's stomach clenched with anger. She didn't say anything, just turned back to Roberto and Renegald's severe crisis.  
"Cora!" Best repeated.  
Renegald hit Ronaldo in the face. Hence, Ronaldo sent Renegald to his certain death at the jaws of the giant Cora-beast.  
"Cora Cora Cora!" insisted Best  
"What the hell do you want?" Cora said coldly.  
"I wanted to apologize." Best said.  
"What, for abandoning me?"  
"Well-"  
"You already did." Cora said. "With that bloody card."  
"Um, no, not..."  
"Look, Best, go to hell." Cora said bluntly. Ronaldo, blind with shame and guilt over causing Renegald's death, flung himself into the jaws of the Great Cora Beast as well.  
"No, you don't understand."  
"Understand what, Best?" Cora growled, standing up.  
"Look, I helped."  
"Helped with what?"  
"The injection." Best was babbling now.  
Cora froze, dropping the fork into her spaghetti.  
"The injection into who with what?" Her voice was like ice. Best froze, backing away slowly. His entire face was filled with terror. Cora hadn't even moved, but her eyes were like gray blue flames. She was still fragile, but Cora didn't care. If Jonas was talking about what she thought he was talking about, she would kill him.  
"White made me! White made me!" Best shouted. Seeing how they were in a public cafeteria, there was sight attention that they were getting. Cora didn't even notice.  
"If you're talking about what you think I'm talking about..." Cora said in a low voice. There was an odd twisting, red hot feeling in her stomach - it wasn't fear, it wasn't sadness, and it was beyond anger. Cora trailed off. The blood was pounding in her ears.  
"Yes. No!" Best's head swung as he looked for an escape.  
Cora was on her feet before she knew it, staring at Best. She took a step towards him. She wanted to cause him as much pain as possible.  
"Hold on there, kid." someone grabbed her arm. "Save it for the gym, eh?"  
"Let go of me!" Cora snapped. She couldn't see the man restraining her, but she didn't care. "You let me go!"  
"Calm down!"  
"He killed Hulio!" Cora shrieked. The man was so surprised at her screaming that he loosened his grip just enough for Cora to break free.  
She saw red, it clouded her vision and her mind. All she could hear was her own screams, Best's yelps, and the pounding of the blood in her ears.  
Thump. Thump.  
"Cora!" shrieked Best  
"You killed him, you killed him, you killed him."  
Thump. Thump.  
"GET OFF OF ME!" Best howled.  
"You bastard, why?!"  
Thump. Thump.  
"You're... I can't breathe."  
"He didn't do anything. He didn't do anything!"  
Thump. Thump.  
Cora let out a howl as two men each seized an arm, dragging her off of Best. Best stared at her like a deer caught in headlikes. A large, puffy bruise was covering half of his face, red marks surrounded his throat. He seemed to have difficulty breathing, and a thin river of blood trickled down to his chin.  
"Woah." one of the men said softly. "Not bad for a Spic."  
The burning hot fist in Cora's stomach twisted.  
"Don't call me that!" Cora tried to bite the man holding Cora, but he managed to dodge her teeth.  
Best was on his feet, and he was piping mad.  
"Let me at the dirty little Mexican." he sneered.  
The other two men grinned. They didn't like being dragged from their dinner to stop a fight that could land everyone in shit, and no one liked Cora. Best was considered a martyr in Umbrella soldier's minds, someone who had been kicked out of Team Biohazard by the evil nazi Scythe.  
Cora clenched her teeth together as the first fist drove into her stomach. She wouldn't scream.  
"I tried to warn you." Best said. Another fist was drove into Cora's stomach and she yelped. Renegald and Ronaldo's corpses started to rise, along with a great deal of noodles and bile. Cora swung out with a foot, catching Best in the jaw. Best was caught by surprise, and he went falling backwards. Cora exhaled.  
The two men holding her back scowled.  
"I can't believe the nerve of this girl." One of them growled, and then they let her go. Not for long though - the first one shoved him, and the second one shoved her back. This created a lopsided game of pong - the two men being the paddles , and Cora being the ball.  
Cora managed to catch herself, but the momentum of the push threw her off balance and she fell. As she landed on her ass, she let out a string of curses in both Spanish and English.  
"Doesn't even know the language properly." one man said, and a kick in Cora's recently healed ribs made her howl.  
"Hey!" a voice shouted. "Leave her alone."  
"Salven?" Cora said in disbelief.  
"That's right, m'lady. Your knight in shining armor. Here to save the day. As always. You can reward me any way you like." Salven did a pelvic thrust.  
Cora growned. She would rather take the beating. 


	36. Markless

The two men dropped Cora, who curled up into a tiny ball with her ribs aching. She hoped they weren't broken again. That would be horrible - being constricted to her bed again.  
Salven, however, moved with that snake like agility that he had displayed many a time before. He ducked under the arm of the first one, crouching in an odd way. His leg shot up, taking the man in the crotch. Then he pounced backwards. The first man was heading towards Salven with a grim look on his face. Salven drew his gun.  
"Come on." he said. "Just drop it."  
"This isn't over." threatened the man, but he left. Cora exhaled, slowly getting to his feet. Salven flashed her a cocky grin.  
"Well?" he asked.  
"Well, I don't know." Cora said quietly. "What am I supposed to do?"  
Salven didn't answer, but simply lead Cora back to her room. Not before he grabbed her ass though.  
  
Cora looked out the window over the sea, speeding brightly beneath her. She rose a hand to shield her eyes from the sun glinting back off of her from the water.  
"Another outbreak." Reeve said, smoking a cigarette. "Perfect. Just fucking perfect."  
"Could be worse." Cora said, still looking out the window.  
"How so?"  
"Eh, this is just a small facility. We just gotta blow the place up and get the scientist that we're supposed to get."  
Cora laughed harshly. Just. They made it sound so simple. The other team members gave her an odd look, then shrugged it off. Scythe sighed. Cora was still fragile emotionally in some ways, yet in other ways she was as harsh as the most grizzled vet who had been in hell ten times over.  
The chopper landed, and the island was beautiful. Cora didn't even notice as the long grasses tickled her knees.  
"Where's the facility?"  
"To the north." Ada said.  
"Alright, let's go then." Scythe said, and with a woop he leapt ahead, laughing. Reeve followed.  
"Watch your heart, bro."  
"My heart's fine. Not like your grease slathered ticker there."  
"Hey, I eat healthier than you."  
"Do not."  
Cora distanced herself from the banter, isntead making her way towards the facility.  
"Cora!" Scythe called.  
"Yeah?" she said back in a montone.  
"Go scout ahead."  
"Yeah." Cora nodded once and loped ahead, glancing around. She had a dagger in her left hand, and a pistol in her right hand. She skidded to a stop, her combat boots sinking slighly into the mud around the facility. A zombie shambled aruond the corner - it appeared that she had tried to make a run for it. She might have been pretty once - her mane of black hair was slathered with blood and matted to her head, sticking out in some places and laying flat and dull in others. Her eyes were white, but Cora pictured her as a brown eyed girl, with a rosy glow in her cheeks and a spring in her step, excited to be here. Excited to be alive.  
Cora fired once, and the woman crumpled like a rag doll, and didn't move again. Cora crept around to the entrance, stepping delicately over the woman's corpse. Her mouth was wide open, in a twisted 'oh!' to the sky.  
Cora didn't look at the zombie's corpse after that. She made her way to the door and opened it a crack. The hall was empty. She unclipped her radio.  
"It's clear. Make your way up. Over and out."  
The rest of the team joined Cora quickly.  
"Ada, Tweek, Foxx, you make your way to the control room and get files. Cobra, you go to the columns of this place and set up detonation with me. Reeve, you and Cora are going to find the scientist, Dr. Tara Simmons."  
"Yes sir." the others saluted.  
"Yeah, sure Bro. C'mon, Cora." Reeve said, and with that he was off. Cora followed him quickly.  
"What if Dr. Simmons is dead?" Cora asked.  
"Then we snap a photo to prove she's dead, take any files or samples on her body, and leave."  
"Fair enough."  
"Cora..." Reeve trailed off.  
"Eh?"  
"You OK?"  
"No, that zombie didn't get me by the front. Thanks."  
"I'm not talking about that." Reeve said cautiously.  
"Oh. You mean Hulio." Cora said flatly. Reeve was silent for a while.  
"You shouldn't be here."  
"I'm just as much a member of Team Biohazard as you."  
"No, but you're fucked up. Look, Cora, you shouldn't be here."  
"I should." Cora said calmly. A group of zombies trudged around the corner. Calmly, Cora raised her gun and fired , pivoting smoothly. It was just like the shooting range. Then why did she feel the bang at every fallen body?  
Hulio. The name ran through her mind. Oh, God, I can't do this.  
But Cora had to do this, which was why she closed her eyes while she fired. Not every head exploded now, but the two made short work of the zombies.  
"Good job."  
"Thanks. You too." It was generic speech, made to cover up the holes inbetween killing. Cora was getting quite used to it - at first, she had tried to make conversation all the time. Then she realized that they were all mentally preparing themselves for killing again. Just because zombies weren't human didn't mean that killing them was any easier on the consience.  
Finally, after Cora realized that she was running low on ammo, they reached a door.  
"This is is." Reeve said, and shouldered it open. Lana Simmons was lying still on a bed, her breathing shallow and her face pale. She tossed and turned.  
"Please, no." the young woman muttered. "Please, don't.. stay away, please. NO! NO!" with a throat ripping shriek, she began to convulse.  
"She's infected." Reeve said. "Shit."  
Cora took careful aim with one of her daggers, then flung it. The woman was pierced between the eyes in mid convlusion, and then she lay still. She let out one final gasp, and then her breathing stopped.  
"Nice throw." Reeve said, but he was staring at Cora as he began to pat the body down. He grimaced. "Still warm." He pulled out some paper and read it, frowning.  
Cora grabbed her knife, wiping it on the dead woman's lab coat. For a second, the tip of the dagger hovered close to the row of marks on Cora's arm, akin to the crosses in a grave yard, without actually piercing the skin to make a new mark to join it's fellows.  
Then she sheathed the knife.  
  
A/N : Thanks to Cappy for the kick in the pants, and to Shak for the talkage and everything. You guys raaaawk. 


	37. Cold Complication

The facility exploded behind Cora as she swung herself up into the helicopter. Her face did not change even as a piece of shrapnel landed dangerously close to the chopper.  
The helicopter lifted up into the sky, over the island.  
"It's too bad." Cora said. "I liked it there. Cool, balmy, long grasses."  
"Zombie infected." added Scythe. "Oh, the perfect dream resort.  
"Could be worse. I could have to live with you." Cora said, and then turned to look out the window. She ignored the laughter and sighed, resting a hand on her chin. Part of her, her heart was numb inside, as if there was just nothing there - or as if someone had replaced it with a stone while she slept.  
Her stomach still had that clenched fist within, but it was dulled, somehow. Leaning her head against the pane of glass, Cora closed her eyes. She had never smoked, but somehow she thought a chemical dependency could help her.  
The others chatted and bantered merrily between them. Cora was the youngest and the smallest, so she often went unnoticed when she didn't speak up.  
"So, there's a new team member coming in?"  
"Not new. The guy's been with Umbrella since forever." Scythe hesitated. "I wish it was Hunk, but it isn't."  
"Who is it then?"  
"Some guy called Hojo."  
"He a Jap?"  
"Nah, unless he's a Jap in disguise."  
"Yeah, they're all shrewd."  
"No, it's just that anyone can outwit you, Foxx"  
"Your mom can't."  
"What the hell does that mean?"  
"What the hell do you mean?"  
More laughter. Cora wished that they would shut up. Her head was pounding, and the marks felt odd. She rubbed at them irritably. Why did she need to slice a bit of her arm away every time she killed someone? She was guilty, wasn't she? Why be guilty? You didn't see Turnbull striding around with a tic tac toe board on his arm. You didn't see Salven sawing his arm away.  
The chopper landed in Paris, and Cora jolted out of her thoughts. Oh, here they were, back in the killing fields. She waited until everyone else got out before she climbed out, not in the extravagant fashion that she usually got in with all the nimbleness of an acrobat, but more in a tired stumble.  
"Merandez." Turnbull was waiting.  
"What?" Cora asked. Sarcastic comments ran through her mind, as well as the idea of saluting, but she just stood there instead.  
"One of your father's former associates just made a large contribution to Umbrella."  
"And?" was Cora supposed to be impressed? Or was she supposed to be sad at her father's death? She just felt ... nothing.  
"Well, he seemed very interesting with meeting you. You do know that once your mother dies, you will be inheriting his money and business?"  
"Wouldn't Umbrella get it? I'm just a lowly soldier." Cora managed to scrounge up enough sarcasm to inject into the last two words.  
"Yes." Turnbull said softly. "I believe that they would."  
Well, what the hell was that supposed to mean? Cora stared at him blankly.  
"Right. Umbrella will be choosing your attire for this, as well as sending in a woman to help you with other matters." Turnbull reached out, fingering a length of hair that was a bit slimy with blood and zombie matter. "You are a pretty woman, Cora, and we'll expect you to represent Umbrella to the fullest."  
"And you'll be bugging me, right? You know, just in case I screw up?"  
"Of course not. We'll have it like a party. White will probably be listening in, and then he can shoot you. Much faster."  
"That's a joke, right?" Cora asked.  
"Maybe."  
"Real comforting there, Turnbull."  
The rest of Team Biohazard was eyeing Turnbull distastefully.  
"Hey." Cobra said suddenly. "I recognize you, but your hair was longer then..."  
"Well, Cora." Turnbull sketched a mocking bow. "I will see you at the party. It'll be tonight."  
"I can hardly wait."  
"Excellent, Cora." Turnbull turned and strode away.  
"Are we invited?" Tweek asked.  
"Nah, but you can come anyway."  
"Sweet." Tweek said. "I have this jacket that I can wear."  
"I'm not coming." Scythe said. "I've already pissed Turn and White off, and I'm going to wait until Team Biohazard is off the shit-list."  
"We can still go right, Scythe?"  
"If you shoot anyone, I'll be pissed."  
"On a scale of one to ten, how pissed?"  
"Seven." Scythe said, and then paused. "Point five."  
"Tsk." Tweek shook his head. "You're getting old."  
"And you're in the bloom of youth?"  
Cora didn't say another word; she just headed away from the helipad. As appealing as banter with her teammates had been before, it was faded now. She wanted some sleep before Turn's assistant came to pretty her up. God, why wasn't anything simple? And of course, she wouldn't have a chaperone for the date. Hulio was dead. She would consider Tweek, Foxx, Scythe, Cobra or Reeve - except they wouldn't do anything right. There was only one other possiblity that she could think of - and she did owe him a favour. Maybe he would shut up afterwards. 


	38. Wanna Go To The Dance?

"Hi, Salven. Want to go to a dance with me?" Cora asked sweetly. Salven, wearing a T-shirt that proudly proclaimed that he did indeed fuck on the first date, spluttered and lost the legendary cool that he bragged so much about to the point where he fell off his chair. His shades slipped to the very edge of his nose, and he pushed it up in an attempt to look cool.  
"Eh?" he said.  
The two of them were in Salven's room. Salven had a stack of paper pushed to the far corner of his desk in an 'in' container. The 'out' container was void of work - instead, there was a magazine of questionable repute.  
"A dance." Cora repeated. "With me."  
"This isn't like, ballroom dancing, is it?" Salven asked suspiciously. He put his feet up against the desk, careful not to track mud on any of the magazines or papers on his desk.  
"No." Cora wondered what ballroom dancing was. There were few types of dance in Mexico that Cora had seen - there was of course, traditional dances, then there was the type of wild, unrehearsed dances that Amelia and Cora did to the newest pop hit on their radio, and then there was the bump n grind.  
"Aah, so it's like a corperate dance or summat? One of those "hi, we're not such bad guys, now don't breath out of tune or we'll shoot you all" kind of events?"  
"That sums it up pretty well." Maybe Salven was smarter than Cora gave him credit for.  
"Hmm." Salven seemed to be considering. The door opened, and Lydia Salven came storming in with her arms full of groceries. Cora had never seen Lydia before, and so she was quite interested. She didn't know what she had been expecting , but 'Ruben Salven' wasn't a name to carry positive connotations, and she had expected Mrs. Ruben Salven to be a woman of similar stature to her husband - scrawny, lean, greasy, and Mexican.  
To Cora's surprise, she was nothing of the sort. From the looks of it, she wasn't Mexican - she had a long mane of golden brown hair that tumbled to her waist and big dark blue eyes that bespoke of a temper. Her nose was small, and delicate, speckled with freckles, and she had a red, sulky rosebud of a mouth. She was beautiful in a sulky, petulant way.  
"Hello, Rubey." she said fondly to her husband, then turned those big eyes to Cora.  
"Hello, Mrs. Salven." Cora said, shaking Lydia's hand. "My name is Cora Merandez, and I'm a fellow soldier of your husbands. I'm just here to ask him if he would mind accompanying me to some social event of sorts."  
"Oh thank God, Rubey. I thought she was another of your side dishes." Lydia Salven sighed, her face filling with relief. "Of course, of course. If you were one of his ..." That sulky little mouth twisted in disgust, and she continued without saying the word. "If you were one of his friends, you wouldn't be clothed and you wouldn't be saying anything coherent or intelligent. Yes, of course you can go to this little social event"  
"Thank you, Mrs. Salven." Cora smiled graciously.  
"How did you do that?" asked an astonished Salven. Two pairs of eyes - one blue gray, one dark blue swiveled to the man.  
"Honey." Lydia said dangerously. "I've asked you not to wear that t- shirt in the house."  
"But, Di, sweetie. It's just for the irony."  
"You said that about the boxers with the other girl's face on them that you had personalized."  
"That wasn't for me!" Salven said, trying very hard not to look at Cora. Lydia sighed.  
"Well, you better be nice to this girl. I like her."  
"Yes, Rubey." Cora said mockingly. Salven winced. "I'm going to see if you have anything good enough for this thing." Cora strode over the closet, jerking the door open. She pulled out a black long sleeved shirt, then frowned at it. It wouldn't do.  
"The man," it proclaimed, with an arrow pointed up. "The myth," it added, with yet another arrow pointing towards where Salven's face was. "The legend." The arrow was pointing down this time. What it was trying to say was obvious - but not believable.  
"This'll do." Cora pulled out a black jacket, made by Armani - or at lest the tag claimed.  
"Honey." Lydia's voice was anything but loving, even as she spoke the name of endearment.  
"Um, yes?" Salven sounded nervous.  
"What is that young woman doing to that OTHER young woman in that magazine?"  
"Oh, I never noticed that." It was impossible for the deep surprised concern in Salven's voice to be real. "Oh my! It appears that she's well ... she's hugging the other woman. Because they are both happy."  
"THIS IS PORNOGRAPHY, RUBEN."  
"Um." Salven didn't seem to have a reply to that. "Yes, well." he found a train of thought and clung on for all he was worth. "That's arguable."  
"LESBIAN PORNOGRAPHY!" Lydia was towering over the young man, her sulky mouth was twisted into a scowl and her mane seemed to bristle. "I TOLD YOU I DIDN'T WANT ANY MORE OF THIS FILTH IN MY HOME!"  
"Well, I read it for the articles. No, wait, no... it's a subjective look at human nature."  
"YOUR DISGUSTING LUSTS ARE NOT HUMAN NATURE, RUBEN!"  
"I'm sleeping on the couch again, aren't I?"  
"I hoped this new job would make something of you Ruben." Lydia wasn't shouting any more, and Ruben wiped away his sweat. Cora knew though that he wasn't out of the fire yet. "But it didn't, did it?"  
"Honey!" Ruben said. "We're rich!"  
"Money isn't everything." Lydia pouted - or was she just calm faced? Her mouth was just that sulky.  
"But it's enough for us to buy what we need."  
"LIKE YOUR DISGUSTING INCARNAL LUSTS YOU DISGUST ME!" Lydia roared, then subsided, red in the face and panting. She glared at Salven once, and then stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind her.  
"Um..." Salven was left staring at the door.  
"Had this conversation before, Rubey?" Cora was grinning widely.  
"God hates me." Salven professed. 


	39. Hell In Dance Form

Cora met her date with a slight bruise on his forehead.  
"Lydia get pissed?" she asked. Salven scowled.  
"No." he told her cuttingly. "I fell."  
"Did she help you fall?"  
"You're not going to let me forget this, are you?"  
"Atta boy, you catch on quickly." Cora sighed. She was afraid to move awkwardly - the way that she had been dressed was most ridiculous. She was swathed in a dark red gown - almost a black - that didn't reveal anything, but it clung and hinted. She had also been outfitted in heels, and her hair was done in what she supposed was a stylish way - a multitude of narrow beaded braids. Whenever Cora moved her head, the beads clicked together.  
This was what they put together for a stealth expert?"  
"You look nice." Salven said.  
"If you pinch my ass, then I'll shoot you, I'm not even joking." Cora threatened.  
"Where would you keep the gun?" Salven said, with an expression that said that if the gun was in the location that he suspected, then he would be up for a treasure hunt.  
"On my thigh. No touchy, or you'll lose your head." the death threat was automatic, but Salven sighed. They headed towards a reception room. The halls here were more for guests, and hence small paintings and green plants lined the halls. Cora grimaced - it may be prettier here, but it was still made for combat. The green herbs had healing powers for open sores and cuts.  
There was a small knot of people outside of the reception hall. Turnbull broke off to say hello to them.  
"Bonjour, Cora!" he said cheerfully.  
"Bonjour, Cora." a familiar voice echoed at his side. To Cora's surprise, Irene Dinzali was perched on Turnbull's arm.  
"What a surprise, Irene. Or do you still want me to call you Trainer Dinzali?" Cora offered a hand.  
"I'm just Miss Talbot now, Cora." Irene gave a weak smile.  
"Hugh Dinzali was killed in combat a month ago." Turnbull confided.  
"So you're just going to forget him?" Cora asked, mouth hanging open slightly.  
"Shrouding myself in black will not do any good." and Irene stalked off.  
"She is a bit touchy." Turnbull confided. "Wait, Irene! I'll get you some punch."  
"We are the only sane ones left." Salven said, shaking his head.  
"No, you and I."  
"What?"  
"You and I are not a we." Cora told him. Salven shrugged, then grinned again as they headed into the reception room. They really had gone all out for this events - not just the streamers and old Christmas lights strung up across the room that Cora remembered vaguely at her first party in Mexico and had half expected here.  
The floor was tiled with blue and gold, and the walls were the same - lavished with every shade of blue from an almost white to an almost black, and sliced through with gold here and there in a way that made Cora's mind reel. There was a long, white table stretching across the expanse of the room, lavished with treats. Cora counted seven bowls of punch, and enough food to feed a small army - everything from corn chips to Brownies to sandwiches to little egg things with yellow cream inside.  
"Ah, Miss Jones!" a broad faced man, sweating profusely, seized Cora's hand and shook it. "You are the daughter of Daryn?"  
"Daryn Jones was my father, yes." Cora said stiffly. "But I go by my mother's maiden name. It's Miss Merandez, thank you."  
"I'm Ruben Salven." Salven added.  
"Go away."  
"Fine, I'll be back for the dancing." Salven said.  
"You better not be drunk."  
"Trust me, I have the alcohol tolerance level of a God." Salven winked and moseyed away.  
"Is that your date?" The man asked distatefully.  
"Sweet Jesus! No!" blurted Cora.  
"I'm her chaperone." Salven said  
"Right, right. Pleased to meet you." the man turned back to Cora. "Well, Miss Jones, my name is Michael Wanetop."  
"Pleased to meet you." Cora said in what she hoped was a polite way.  
"May I just say that you look ravishing today?"  
Cora scowled.  
"Look, um, so what business do you have with Umbrella?" Cora said, pulling her dress away from her hip. Why did she agree to this? Oh, right, her family.  
"I do several things for the company. Cover up small things, change a number here and there."  
"So you commit fraud?"  
"No!" Wanetop said loudly, then glanced around. "I prefer to think of myself as a Number Fairy."  
"Well, you're a Fairy all right." Cora said. Wanetop blinked, not seeming to know how to take this, until he chased after Cora - who had stalked towards the brownies.  
"Look, I'd like to merge Jones' Agents Association with the Wanetop Agent Supply.  
"That's lovely." Cora said. "But I'm not a business woman, I'm a soldier."  
"Then let me take your fortune off your shoulders."  
"Nah." Cora spun away. Wanetop looked frustrated, but then the first few notes of music began to play. Men and women scurried to each other to join in the first dance. Wanetop mopped his sweatry brow and stormed off.  
"Ready for a dance." Salven appeared at Cora's side.  
"Well, not so much ready as if I don't dance then chances are I'm going to get shot."  
"I'll take the dance anyways." Salven seized Cora, pratically dragging her out on the dance floor.  
"Real suave, Salven."  
"Shut up, Merandez."  
Wanetop and an anorexic looking couple spun by them, nearly knocking them over.  
"It's times like this that I wish Hulio was alive." Cora sighed. 


	40. Human

Salven regained her footing, and even though he seemed unused to the dance that the other couples on the floor, he and Cora would lead each other through the rough spots.  
"You aren't half bad at this." Cora was surprised.  
"And neither are you." Salven said. Finally, the music faded away.  
"Oh, thank God. I need some punch."  
"Yes." Salven said, stiffening slightly and adopting a shifty look. "I, too, need some punch."  
"What are you up to, Salven?"  
"I'm spiking the punch.  
"No you aren't."  
"C'mon." wheedled Salven.  
"Fine. Whatever. Just don't put it in the purple stuff." Cora said. "I love the purple stuff."  
Salven pranced off and Cora frowned to herself, debating whether that looked suspicious or not. Before long, he came back with a grin on his face.  
"I spiked the red stuff."  
"Oh Jesus Salven."  
"What?"  
"They're all gonna get drunk, you know that?"  
"So?"  
"So this place is going to be filled with old people. Old, drunken people. Are you insane, Salven?!"  
"Ssh." Salven raised a finger to his lips. They're about to play a faster song."  
Indeed, as Salven had predicted. A quick, high beat began to echo throughout the room. The older couples looked disgusted, and one old man began spluttering furiously. But the younger couples - there couldn't have been more than a dozen twenty five or under, and then another dozen younger than thirty. The rest were all gray haired and slow on the dance floor.  
"C'mon, Cora." Salven said. "Let's dance."  
"We have to, don't we?"  
"Well, Turn is glaring at us." Salven pointed. Both Gabriel Turbull and Irene Dinzali were giving the young couple a cold stare. "I figure the best way to get them off our backs is to follow company protocol, and - well - dance.  
"Says you." Cora said, but she allowed Salven to lead her out onto the dance floor.  
"Ready?"  
"I'm not that good."  
"Whatever." Salven said, and then without another word, he began to spin her around the dance floor. Dipping and sliding and wiggling, the lead would alternate between Cora and Salven, the two of them attracting eyes and stares. Finally, Salven pulled her back into his arm, gesturing broadly to the crowd. It was a real movie finish.  
"What are you doing?" Cora asked. Realizing that she was actually breathless, she scowled up at Salven.  
"Dancing." he responded, and pulled her up to her feet. There was a great deal of applause - apparently, they had been the best couple on the floor. Even the older men around the room were applauding.  
"We're a hit?" Cora asked incredulously.  
"Yeah, I guess we are." Salven said. The strains of a slow dance began to fill the room.  
"I'm getting some punch." Cora hesitated. "Which one did you put the spike into?"  
"The red stuff. Want some?"  
"Sure." Cora said. She felt warm, and giddy. The numbness had been chased away. Cora didn't even recognize this new feeling. Salven handed Cora a glass of red punch, and Cora downed it. The giddy, warm feeling in her stomach mixed with the warm feeling of the brandy in the punch.  
"You're going to get yourself drunk."  
"Maybe I won't be so embarrassed about getting on the dance floor then. Besides, you said it yourself- this party needs some kicks."  
"That depends. Are you easy when you're drunk?"  
"Shut up and get me another glass."  
  
Salven sighed as he carried the smaller woman down the hall. He literally carried her in his arms - she had drunk nearly the entire bowl.  
"This isn't what I meant by kicks." Salven muttered. "If Lydia sees me now ..."  
Luckily, the halls were empty and Salven was able to carry Cora around without much difficulty. She was little more than a girl, barely above average height and slim even then. She hadn't been eating as much as she should.  
"Jesus Christ." Salven said out loud. He wasn't falling in love. He even told the unconcious girl jus that. But what WAS he feeling? Compassion? Pity? "Dear Lord, I'm turning into a Disney Movie!"  
"Mm," Cora stirred, then her eyes fluttered open. "I recognize it."  
"What? Me?"  
"No, the feeling."  
"Oh God, you're not gonna vomit on my shoes, are you? I paid two hundred bucks for them."  
Cora grimaced, it was amusing seeing her drunkness mix with her anger.  
"It's joy." she told him. "Now, put me down." she was trying to speak like Dinzali or Scythe would, Salven could tell. But she was slurring left and right. It ws actually pretty funny.  
"You can't walk."  
"Shut up."  
"Well, screw you if you think I'm sobering you up." Salven managed to shoulder the door to her room open, then put her down on the bed without ceremony.  
"Th... Thank you." Cora yawned. Salven fought back the urge to say 'you're welcome.' What, was he going to stop slamming doors in people's faces next? Stop using the phrase 'out like a fat kid in volleyball'?  
"Stop softening me up." he told the sleeping girl. She only muttered in response. Salven sighed, then left the room. He hadn't even copped a feel - what was wrong with him?  
So much for 'Uber Pimp of the Year' he had been hoping for. 


	41. Not The Same

The piercing beeps of the alarm clock was what roused her out of sleep. A pale hand groped it's way out from underneath the heavy blue cover on the bed and fumbled around, knocking the phone and a pile of books off of the small table before finally seizing the alarm clock and throwing it at the wall. It hit the wall with a loud thud, let out one more strangled beep, then hit the floor and was silent.  
Cora growled to herself. It felt like a crew of miners were hammering away inside of her skull. She tottered to her feet, slowly. There was a note on the dresser.  
"Goddamnit," Cora said irritably, then winced, putting a hand to her head. She continued her complaint in a lowered voice. "How do they keep on getting in here?" She stumbled over to pick up the note, wrapped around a bottle of sorts.  
  
Cora,  
Tell Salven that if he pulls a stunt like that again, he's getting more demerits. Thank Lord you were willing to take the bullet though. They thought that the dancing and the atmosphere had gone to your head. Here's a little thank you gift. It's a hangover cure. Don't worry, it's all natural. You'll feel better. It takes 45 minutes to work though.  
Best regards,  
Gabriel Turnbull  
  
"I may need it?" Cora murmured, picking up the bottle. She hesitated, then downed a pill and retreated back into the quiet cave of her bed. Sleep came quickly, if it was an uneasy sleep troubled by doubts.  
Cora awoke, and her pain was gone. She stood in wonder, spinning in a small circle in front of her mirror.  
"Wow." she said. "It works." Cora didn't know what she had been expecting, but she dressed anyways. The pager went off. Providential, Cora called it. The only solution that Cora saw was that Scythe had told Turnbull about the mission beforehand. That was the only way that Turnbull would have found it fit.  
Cora headed off to the briefing room. She didn't want to go on a mission, but she didn't think that she had a choice in the matter. She would rather visit with her Mother and Amelia - she had not seen them for what felt like forever. It was kinda sad, when you thought about it.  
When Cora reached the briefing room, she was frowning to herself. The others were all inside, but the friendly babble that came out was not the type that was associated with the type of briefings that Scythe gave.  
Cora pulled the door open. Scythe, Reeve, Tweek, Ada, Cobra and Foxx were all there, except there was the small matter of the stranger who was sitting there. He reminded Cora of Hulio in a way - they both had the brilliant green eyes. Cora tore her gaze away from those bright green eyes to stop herself from thinking about Hulio.  
/He's dead!/ Cora thought sternly. /And just because some guy has the same coloured eyes doesn't give you the lisence to start bawling!/  
Cora instead examined the other types of his face. He was lean - lean and slender, with dark red hair that was spiked upwards. He wore an easy grin. He was the type of man who knew that life was a bitch, Cora decided. But he just didn't care. That was interesting, very interesting.  
"Hey." the man made the first break of the silence. "I'm Anthony, but I've been called Hojo before. Whatever floats your boat." he extended a large hand and Cora hesitantly shook it.  
"So ... your speciality?"  
"Tactics expert."  
"Hope you're better than our last one." Cora said in what she hoped was a light hearted way.  
"I just hope I'm good, period." Hojo said seriously, releasing Cora's hand and running it through his hair. Cora nodded, then sat down at her end of the table.  
"What is with you and always being late?" Scythe asked Cora, amused.  
"From what I heard about last night," Foxx said with a grin, "Cora got drunk."  
"Kinda." Cora said.  
"Why do you keep hanging around with Salven? The guy's a cock." Tweek asked. Cora shrugged.  
"So, why're we here Scythe?" Ada asked.  
"No mission today. They gave the mission off to Alpha Team. Apparently, we're still on the shit list." Scythe grimaced.  
"Why?" Cora asked.  
"Cora, did you ever give shit to your superiors?"  
"Yes sir, all the time." Cora said, with a salute.  
"Did you, Foxx?"  
"Yeah. They hated me."  
"Tweek?"  
"Nah."  
"What?" Scythe raised an eyebrow.  
"They were too afraid of me, sir." Tweek grinned. Scythe turned back to Cora.  
"You see?"  
"Oh. So we are a shit list team."  
"They'd have to graduate us sooner or later, so why not put us together?"  
"Oh." Cora frowned at Hojo, then at the others. Maybe there was an escape. If these people all wanted to get away from Umbrella too...  
"Anyways, here are your orders. You will meet up at this resturant at 1900 hours on Saturday night." Scythe said. The table broke into jovial laughter 


	42. Old Enemies

/There was a long corridor, the walls made of dark gray stone. The floor was plush red carpet. Cora strode along towards the end of the hall ... when she came to what looked like a bottomless drop.  
"What the hell?" Cora said out loud. She peered down the pit. A crash of lightning follow by the drums of thunder allowed her a glimpse - zombies. Cora backed off from the pit, turning around to go backwards. There was no backwards, only a brick wall. Suddenly, a door opened in the thick stone.  
"Come this way, Cora." It was Turnbull, gesturing urgently. Suddenly, Salven pushed him out of the way - wearing a bright orange jump suit and a party hat. He opened his mouth, and blaring sirens came out./  
  
"What the...?!" Cora burst up into a sitting position. The alarms were blaring full blast. Cora didn't know what they meant - but when did alarms blaring at two in the morning bode well for anybody?  
Cora sprang to her feet, ignoring the fact that her clothes were not well made for combat or for stealth. Bright pink with bunny rabbits - childish, but comfortable. She grabbed the crate full of knives, slipping them back into their old hiding places. They felt ... right there.  
She grabbed her Glock and tucked it into the waist band of her jammy pants, then headed outside. Silence. She continued to creep down the hall silently, silently. Not that not making noise would do any good - she pratically glew. Bright pink, at that.  
There was suddenly the rattle of vents above her, and a dark shape dropped down and tackled Cora, putting a hand over her mouth.  
"Don't move." a familiar voice hissed.  
"Tweek?" Cora said, even though her voice was muffled.  
"Cora?"  
"I ... can't breathe."  
"Oh. Sorry." Tweek stood, helping Cora up. "Look. Don't travel in the halls, OK? Go in the vents."  
"Tweek, what the hell is going on?!"  
"HCF invasion."  
"Wesker?" Cora asked faintly. Tweek nodded. Cora was suddenly paralyzed with fear. A radio at Tweek's belt crackled, calling for backup at the front hall.  
"Cora, go through the vents. To the armory, OK?" and with that, Tweek was gone, leaving Cora standing there.  
  
"They're in the vents, sir!" The young private saluted.  
"Then smoke them out." Robert Watts gave a smile as the private smiled and scurried out. "Leave them alive, though!" he called. Wesker would be pleased with this,s oh yes he would. Flamethrowers were being set up at every ventelation system. This wouldn't take long.  
  
Cora clanked along, gritting her teeth. She needed company. She was all alone up in these vents and ... she suddenly let out a shriek as smoke and fire burst towards her in the vents. There was laughter as she shrieked, wriggling away from the flames. The smoke kept coming though, filling her lungs. There was no escape.  
/I have to get out, or I'll die./ Cora said.  
"I surrender." she called out between coughs. "Stop it! I surrender. Stop it!" the last was a frantic, throatripping shriek. The smoke and the fire ceased. Still coughing, Cora made her way to the vent cover. If she tried to get away, she didn't think they would stop - no matter how much she screamed.  
She reached towards the vent entrance to pull herself out, when a firm hand grasped her wrist and pulled as hard as it could. Cora gasped as the sharpness of the ventelation duct cut her stomach and her back. Putting a hand to her stomach, she removed her hand. The fingers were wet and red.  
"Oh God." she whispered.  
"What's your name?" the man asked simply.  
"Cora Merandez." she said softly. "Could you ... My stomach." Cora gave a weak gesture.  
"Ah?" the man gave no sign of caring. It was as if he was asking what he was asking out of routine. "And you're with Umbrella?"  
"No." Cora said sarcastically. "I'm the part of the raiding team that go around in their pajamas." Her comment was cut off, understandably, by the fist in her stomach. Cora cried out, the pain of her stomach mixing with the pain of the hit. She hit the ground, curling up in an attempt to save her skin.  
"You will show respect while speaking to Robert Watts." the man said with a low voice that would brook no nonsense.  
"Oh yeah?" Cora said. She had fallen to her knees, but she would be damned if she was going to be all docile and placid. "Who's going to make me?!"  
"My superior." Watts said.  
"And who's your superior? Another braindead marine type?"  
"No."  
"Oh - so he's not a marine?"  
"Have you heard of Albert Wesker?" Watts asked. Cora froze, staring at Watts with wide eyes.  
"No." she shook her head as if to deny it. Watts cracked a small smile.  
"Yes. I'll just tell him that you're here to see him then." Watts unhooked the radio from his belt, fending off the attacks of Cora easily.  
"Nononono, please God no!" Cora said frantically.  
"Hello, Captain Wesker? I have an Umbrella soldier here, from Team Biohazard. Goes by the name of Cora Merandez. Thank you. Yes, my location is the same. Over and out " Watts clipped the radio onto his belt and gave a large grin to the struggling Cora. 


	43. Surrender

Cora sliced off the sleeves of her jammies and tied them together, wrapping them around the bloody marks left by the vent. Thank God that they were not deep, or else Cora would probably need more than just her sleeves.  
Watts made her disarm, so she laid her daggers in a neat pile and put the Glock on top.  
"Sit down, and don't move." Watts ordered. Cora slowly sat, wincing at the pain in her middle, and wrapped her arms around her knees. The familiar blur of movement suddenly streaked towards them. Wesker. Cora flinched back, burying her face in her knees.  
/Please don't recognize me./  
"You have a prisioner then, Watts?"  
"Yes sir!" Watts saluted. "Cora Merandez, she says her name is." Cora didn't need to look up to know that there was cold smirk growing on the face of Wesker. Sure enough, when someone seized a handful of her hair, jerking her up so that she was standing on her tippy toes and mewling with pain, Wesker had that small smile on.  
"Hello, Cora." he said, still with that small smirk on his face.  
"You really think you can get away with carrying me off?" Cora gave a hoarse laugh. "You really think no one will persue you?!"  
"Watts, how many employees of Umbrella have you killed?" Wesker asked in an offhand way.  
"Lost count at the two dozen mark, sir."  
"You see, Cora?" Wesker gave that smirk again. "We'll be far, far away from here by the time that they notice that you're not among the dead." He turned back to the HCF troops. "We have what we're looking for?" he barked.  
"Yes sir, we have the data disk!"  
"And any other prisoners?"  
"Yes, we have three scientists and two soldiers besides this one."  
"We're moving out then." Wesker said casually. Without another word, he scooped up Cora.  
"Hey! Put me down!" she protested. Wesker didn't listen, as that sickening blur moved again. Except this time, Cora was part of the blur. Again, her stomach sloshed about sickeningly. "Somebody help me!" she screamed, trying to orient herself. All she could see was the blur of her captor's legs, and her own hair getting in her face, and the tiles of the floor rapidly being eaten up by Wesker's quick movements. Before long, the front doors to Umbrella were opening.  
/This ISN'T how I wanted to escape./  
There was a line of dark shapes that Cora could barely make out ahead, due to all the bouncing. As they got closer, she saw that they were a sort of hybrid between trucks and SUVs.  
"NO, NO!" Cora shrieked. "Somebody help me!"  
Wesker put her into the back of one of the odd vehicles.  
"I'll speak with you later, Ms. Merandez." Wesker said, being mockingly polite. Another woman - this one with dark gold hair and brown eyes was placed into the back of the vehicle. She was sobbing frantically.  
"Please." she pleaded. "I'm just a scientist. Please! My brother will hurt you, he will..."  
"I'm sure he will." Wesker said, checking his watch and casually pulling down the back of the vehicle. Cora and the scientist let out identical screams as blackness surrounded them. There was a loud noise as all the vehicles began to move away.  
"Oh God... Oh God..." Cora could not make out the scientist, but she sounded panicked. Cora tried to keep her head.  
"Do you have any way to make light?" she said gently.  
"I ... I have a flashlight ... all scientists do ... just incase there's a blackout or we have to work late."  
"Well, let's turn it on then." Cora encouraged the woman. There was a click, revealing the pretty young woman. The light seemed to encourage her - she gave a wavering smile.  
"Who are you?" she asked.  
"I'm Cora Merandez." The young woman reminded her of Amelia, in a way - before Umbrella had gotten to her. They both had that innocent, wide eyed look to them. "I'll get you out of this mess, trust me."  
"R-really?" the scientist swallowed. She had red scores on her cheeks where she had dug her fingernails in. "I'm ... I'm Alanna Turnbull."  
Cora nearly dropped the flashlight.  
"Is your brother Gabriel?"  
"Is Gabe OK? Did they take him?" Alanna seemed to have taken Cora's promise to heart - but Cora didn't know is Gabriel was even alive."  
"I don't know." Cora admitted. "But I'm sure that your brother can take care of himself." /He sure took care of everyone else./  
Alanna relaxed, smoothing her dark gold hair over one ear and breathing more easily. The red marks were fading from her face, and the calm that was returning to her was fine.  
"Are you armed?" she asked her. Now that she had control of herself, her voice was clipped and calm. She was like her brother.  
"No. I can find a way to become armed, though."  
"I'm sure you can." She was wrapping arrogence around herself like a shield, or a shroud.  
"We'll be fine." Cora said, to convince herself as much as the frosty scientist. "We can get away."  
"Can we really?" Alanna asked softly, her back to Cora. "Will they let us?"  
"To hell with whether they'll let us!" exploded Cora. "We're leaving. I don't know, I might even leave Umbrella."  
Alanna's eyes widened at the treason that Cora spoke. Cora scowled as her stomach rumbled. She wished that Scythe and the others would stop Wesker - but that only happened in the movies. It was only her, her and Alanna.  
"We will get out." Cora promised softly. 


	44. Prisoner

Cora had no idea what time it was when the vehicles' rumbling finally ceased, but she knew that she was ravenous, exhausted, and parched. She had not had a drop of water for what seemed like ages, and the last time she had eaten was but a dim memory. Alanna had dropped off, mumbling to herself softly in her sleep.  
"Gabe." she murmured as the motion stopped. "You've come." Cora pitied the young girl. She couldn't be over eighteen. Cora spun smoothly on her heel, reaching for a dagger that wasn't there as the back door slid open.  
Even though it was night, Albert Wesker was wearing his sunglasses. Cora froze, letting out a soft hiss between her teeth.  
"Hello, ladies." he said casually, stepping up into their small cell. "I trust you had a comfortable ride?"  
"Gabe ..." Alanna shook her head, large eyes raising to see Wesker. She squeaked, curling up into a little ball.  
"Of course we didn't have a comfortable ride!" Cora snapped. "No food, no water, no beds ..."  
Before Cora could continue her list of grieviences, Wesker smiled. That was the only warning he gave - a slow, deliberate smile. Before Cora could puzzle that out, or even react, she was on the cold floor. His fist had driven all of the air out of her lungs, leaving her gasping and struggling to regain her senses. Alanna screamed.  
"Now, now, Miss Merandez. You remember that your life is of no great importance to me?"  
"I hate you." was all Cora could say as she struggled to her feet. Air came to her lungs now, but it was still difficult.  
Wesker eyed the two up and down. Alanna looked pale and distraught, small and weak. Cora's cheeks were hollow, her movements slow - she hadn't been eating enough since Hulio had died, and she had never been plump.  
"I'll have necessities brought in for you two." Wesker told them then. "As much use as we can gain from corpses, I will look forward to you screaming, Miss Merandez." Wesker left the vehicle as unmomentously as he had come, but he glanced over his shoulder at Cora. Cora could swear that she saw a flash of red behind those shades.  
  
/"Hello, I've encountered Wesker and I'm calling for back-" Cora didn't finish her sentence as Wesker's slid the glasses slightly enough to reveal golden eyes, shot though with red - and slitted like a cat's.  
Cora froze on the spot. All the training that she had had was completely out of her mind. Her brain was blank. The radio fell from her hand, bouncing and rolling to a stop somewhere between Cora and Wesker. ... Sliding out one of her remaining daggers, she struck. The knife slipped smoothly into the breast bone. Wesker stared at Cora for a moment.  
"Take that." she panted.  
"You do have balls, I'll give you that." Wesker's voice was unstrained, his face showing nothing. He yanked the dagger out without ceremony and threw it back over to the others. "However, it doesn't seem that you have much else."/  
Cora left out a soft moan, sitting down. Even then, two soldiers came in with trays. Cora thought one was Watts, but by the pale moonlight, she could only make out a few features. Besides, she only had eyes for what was on the tray being set in front of her.  
A large plastic cup, filled with ramen noodles - the type that you popped into the microwave for a few minutes for a quick lunch. A large, buttered bun - still warm! - that had been sliced open and filled with roast beef. A bottle of Coke. An airtight package filled with the little doughy cookies that you might get in a cafeteria.  
Cora gulped down a forkful of ramen noodles - but they were too hot, so she instead turned to her sandwich, tearing off enormous mouthfuls and barely chewing.  
"You're hungry." Alanna said.  
"Yeah." Cora said as soon as she had swallowed. "I am. Haven't ate well in a while." She turned back to devouring her sandwich, washing down the mouthfuls with swigs from the Coke. Alanna nearly poked at her food.  
"I'm a vegetarian." she said glumly. "And I'm not eating anything from them! It could be poisoned."  
"I'll eat it!" Cora volunteered as she licked the crumbs off of her fingers and turned to the noodles.  
"It's not going to run away from you."  
"It might." Cora said, drinking the broth at the bottom. It was only powder and water, but Cora needed every ounce of strength she could get. She turned to the other woman's meal, saving the cookies from both trays as a kind of dessert.  
Alanna looked miserable, but Cora's mood was raised quickly as she drained what was left of the bottle. A pity it was plastic - if it was glass, she could stab someone. Watts left some bandages and disinfectant, and Cora took care of her wound quickly and easily. She caught sight of herself on a small, shiny attachment on Watt's suit. She looked healthier, better.  
/A better test subject, maybe. But you'll never catch me. You will never hold Cora Merandez./  
Cora turned to doing pushups. Her scrapes burnt like fire, but she continued to work away. So concentrated was she on her excersise, that she didn't notice the newcomer.  
"Cora!" Alanna squealed, but it was too late. The boot caught her in the head. For a moment, all Cora saw was black with dancing stars. She lay on her back, gasping and mewling - until her vision cleared and she saw Wesker with a boot on her chest. Then her cries turned into snarls.  
"You rat bastard!" she cursed.  
"Language." Wesker said softly, the pressure increasing on her chest until breath came raspily.  
"Fine. Fine." Cora said, laying still. It was possible that Wesker wouldn't let Cora die until he could expiriment on her - but she wouldn't be surprised if he shot her for being a nuisance.  
"So." Wesker said, eyes hidden and face showing nothing. "Where do I start?" 


	45. Alanna

"You could start by getting your boot off of me?" Cora asked hopefully. Wesker merely stared at her through those shades. "Or you could... not. Whatever works for you!" Cora flashed a bright smile, which faded. The pressure increased substantially on her chest - and Cora opened her mouth to tell her that she couldn't breath, that he was killing her... but all that came out was a desperate yowl.  
"Get off of her!" screamed Alanna, getting to her feet. "You're killing her."  
"I had forgotten how lax the training was at Umbrella." Wesker said calmly, and before either of them could react, there was a gun in his hand pointing at Alanna.  
"Please..." Cora croaked. "Don't ... shoot ..." she trailed off into wheezes and gasps.  
"Right, right. I have orders ..." Wesker grimaces at that word. "Not to kill you. Not yet."  
"Thank God." Cora breathed as the pressure loosened on her.  
"It seems that the other soldiers died. One struggled and was shot. The other committed suicide. You are a treasure trove of information."  
"And you're an asshole."  
"Do not think that this somehow means that your life is in great demand." Wesker removed his boot and Cora gulped air hungrily. She did not have long though. The boot crashed into her side, sending her crashing into the wall. Cora lay still.  
/Let him think I'm not able to hurt him. That way when I do escape, I'll have the element of surprise./  
"And you, Alanna. Your scientists are apparently low ranking. We're letting them go."  
"They'll die out in this cold!" Alanna protested.  
"Would you rather it was you?"  
"No."  
/She really is a Turnbull./ Cora thought disdainfully. But then she quashed the thought. /You're not leaving without her. She looked just like Amelia ... And even now, you can tell she's terrified./  
"So. HCF wants you two nice and plump and healthy." Wesker said. "And talking. I think that the quicker this interrogation is over with, then the quicker that you two can join your comrades. You , Merandez, will be dead. And you, Turnbull, can run back to Paris. If you survive, that is."  
Alanna and Cora looked at eachother with rapidly paling faces.  
"If you think that I always follow orders though." Wesker paused, cracking his knuckles. "Well, let me just say that you better not push your luck. Now, let's get this little farce over with."  
/Oh God. How long will I be able to hold out without saying anything?/  
"Captain Wesker, Sir?" Watts asked.  
"What is it, soldier?" Wesker said. He did not move, his expression remaining the same, but he still seemed angry somehow. No , not angry. Disappointed. Disappointed that he couldn't hurt Cora and Alanna.  
"The B.O.W.'s that we're carrying... they're getting restless."  
"And I am supposed to care?" Wesker turned around then, arching an eyebrow. Watts paled.  
"Sir, I thought..."  
"B.O.W.'s are restless because they want human flesh. You know what the solution is, don't you?"  
"No, sir."  
"Kill Wales. He gets on my on my nerves. Let the monsters have some fun."  
"You're a monster!" exclaimed Cora.  
"And the prisoners, sir?" asked Watts.  
"Just because I am not a sheep does not mean I disobey orders for the hell of it. No, keeping them alive for now suits me."  
"But as for Wales?"  
"You are so inept that you can't kill a man?" Wesker sneered. "Fine. I'll do it. You watch these weasels."  
"Yes, sir!"  
"Oh great." Cora muttered. "Just great!"  
"We're not going to die, are we?" Alanna said, her cold, frosty demenour gone. She was the scared girl again.  
"No." Cora shook her head, eyeing Watts. He was a large man, and armed. There was no escape - for now.  
"Can't we just knock him over and run?"  
"We wouldn't get too far. He'd shoot us both in the back. And they wouldn't have too much trouble hiding someone in a labcoat in the snow."  
"What if I pretend to be sick?"  
"Too cliched."  
"What if you offer to flash him?" Alanna asked hopefully. Cora stared at her.  
"NO!" she said, so emphatically that Watts actually turned around to gance at them. "I am NOT doing that."  
"Why not?"  
"It might work with an imbicle like Salven." Cora said in a too calm voice. "BUT NOT WITH ANYONE WITH A PEA FOR A BRAIN!"  
"Calm down! You're going to attract attention!" Alanna said. Cora scowled, but didn't move.  
"If you want to try your stupid plan, then go ahead." Cora snapped. "And see what that gets you. If you're lucky, probably Wesker'll give you a little present." Alanna stared at Cora, striken. Cora felt guilty, but she stood up and patted the younger woman on the back. She wasn't good at this whole 'providing comfort' thing. At Cora's touch, Alanna burst into hysterical sobs.  
"I'm sorry." she wailed.  
"Uh ... there, there."  
"I just wanted to help!"  
"I know you did." Cora said awkardly. This pain increased as Alanna began to sob into Cora's shoulder. This WASN'T in the job description. 


	46. Cobra

The lurching of the mobiles stopped, jerking Cora out of a fitful sleep. To her surprise, when the backdoor slid open, clear, bright sunlight slid through. Cora had to shield her eyes.  
"Ow." she complained.  
"What?" Alanna jerked out of her sleep. "Gabe?"  
"Gabriel Turnbull isn't coming." Cora said grimly. "We have to get out of here ourselves."  
Alanna looked like she was about to cry - but only for a second. She wrapped herself in the icy calm of a pupper master that occupied her brother so often.  
"What do you want?" she snapped at Watts, who was making his way inside the vehicle.  
"We're stuck. We're having the soldiers and the scientist prisoners push us out of the mud."  
"I thought they were dead!" Cora protested.  
"I lied. Now, come on out."  
"In my pajamas?"  
"We have new attire for you both." Watts dropped two armfuls full of white cloth. Baggy white sweatsuits with the HCF logo looming large on the left shoulder.  
"I can't wear this." Cora blurted.  
"Why not?"  
"Too noticable."  
"That's the point. We can't have you running away, now can we? Suit up and get shoving. We don't have much time to waste."  
"Alright, alright." Cora said. "Touchy."  
  
"What the HELL do you mean Team Biohazard isn't going to be allowed out there?!" Scythe demanded.  
"We're sending out Delta Team."  
"Delta Team didn't lose anyone! We lost two members!"  
"So?"  
"So we want revenge, White you imbecile!"  
Gregory White stood up, puffing at his cigar. He gave a slow, condescending smile to the furious commander, then turned to look out the window, still puffing away. He counted the time it would take the hasty young man to explode with puffs of his cigar. Puff. Puff. Puff. Puff. Puff.  
"Well?" Scythe asked sternly.  
"Sorry. My decision stands."  
"That's bullshit!"  
"And why? Your team is crippled without the two.soldiers. I'm sorry, but I can't allow it."  
"Delta Team is just so goddamn healthy then, eh? Talbot, Best... a regular group of fit, healthy soldiers."  
"Jealous, Hunter?"  
Scythe ignored the use of his real name. It was supposed to press buttons, to make him mad, to make him make a mistake.  
"Fuck you." Scythe snapped.  
/Whatever happened to being calm and under control?/ He asked himself scornfully. /You're acting like they killed your firstborn./  
"Anyways, it's too late now." White spoke calmly, adjusting the picture frame on his desk. It was a picture of Alanna Turnbull. When her brother saw this picture, he frowned for a split second, then passed him a look that promised hard words for later. "We've already sent out Delta Team. They'll be bringing your men ... pardon, man and woman back any day now."  
"And I wasn't told?" Scythe said. He could be as mockingly calm as White.  
"No." Turnbull said. "Now, this meeting is over. If you will be so kind to leave...?"  
"Just hope that Delta don't get killed." Scythe said, then made his departure. Two seconds after he left, both men broke into shouts at each other.  
"Why do you have my sister on your desk?!"  
"Why are you being such a moron?!"  
The two men stared at eachother, then White grinned.  
"Alanna's a very pretty, clever girl."  
"Who's half your age!"  
"So? Dinzali's older than you" White sat down, waving away Turnbull's grumbles that she preferred to be called 'Talbot'. It was all foolishness anyways. "Don't look so mad. I'm not sending Delta on a suicide mission. You'll get your redhead back. Besides, Alanna seems a bit afraid of me. It's fun to toy with her. Hopefully, she comes back alive too."  
Turnbull looked like he wanted to hit the older man, but instead stalked out. White grinned. Gabriel was pretty enough for a girl - he needed to be toyed with, a little. Just to deflate his ego.  
The door slammed hard enough to make ash flutter down from White's cigarette. He chuckled. Fun to play with, indeed.  
  
Cora groaned, dropping to her knees. Wesker was there before she could rally her courage, a small smile on his face.  
"Is anything wrong, Miss Merandez?" his voice was sickly sweet. A hand landed on her shoulder.  
"Get off of me!" Cora snarled, jerking to her feet. She ached all over - but the training she had had before... An andreneline rush soared through her, she lunged at Wesker...  
and found herself lying in the snow, gasping for breath. Her head was ringing, and although she knew that Alanna was screaming , it sounded like a whisper. Her neck felt weak, she moved her head through the icy snow to rest it on her shoulder. When she moved it away, a light dab of blood stained the white cloth. Everything looked odd, as if she was watching an old movie reel instead of her life.  
Wesker's lips moved as he hauled her to her feet, but nothing came out. She tilted her head at him curiously. Was he speaking to her? What should she say?  
"Goddamnit!" Wesker cursed, but it came through as a whisper. Suddenly, another imprisoned Umbrella soldier darted towards her, catching her before she fell. His hood fell back.  
It was Cobra.  
"What are you doing?" Cobra shouted, coming faintly through the layer of wool in her head. "She has a concussion."  
Oh. So THAT was what was wrong with her. Secure in this knowledge, her vision faded to a starry, dancing curtain. 


	47. The Beginning of the End

Cora woke up, her head feeling packed with wool still. But the damp stickiness in her ears had vanished, and the world was going along at normal pace along with the audio. Thank God.  
"Cobra?" she asked faintly. Alanna was there.  
"Oh my god," she said in a single breath. "You're alive, you're OK."  
"Did you think I was dead?" Cora asked, amused, slightly. Then she winced, putting a hand to your head.  
"Your boyfriend is so worried." gushed Alanna.  
"Boyfriend?"  
"Mmhmm!" Alanna made a sound of agreement, tucking dark gold hair behind her ear. "He's acting like your his little sister or something." She giggled. "It's cute."  
"I am his little sister, in a way." Cora sat up. Her clothes were stained with mud. "Same UBCS team."  
"Oh." Alanna seemed baffled by that. None of the scientists seemed very close - they were constantly jockeying for attention from the superiors, it seemed. Or else being snooty little geniuses. Soldiers had to work together though, to trust each other.  
If not, they would all be like Best.  
"Anyways, he's not my boyfriend." confirmed Cora. "Just a friend." She slowly got to her feet.  
"We're nearly there." Alanna sounded terrified.  
Cora cursed.  
"If help doesn't come soon..." she darted out the back. Alanna shrieked, then followed. She had to talk to Cobra and the other prisioner. They had to escape.  
  
Bolt, leader of the Delta Team, frowned as his team floundered up the hill. One small, weasely person in particular seemed to be having trouble. It was Jonas Best, Tactics Expert. He had planned out a fairly good plan.  
Of course, Bolt didn't know shit about tactics.  
"This is bullshit!" Talbot complained for the third time. Talbot was the legendary Irene Dinzali, but her husband's death had made her upset. Now she was on the arm of Gabriel Turnbull. Bolt would have thought her too smart for that.  
He was as quickthinking as his name and he liked to think that he looked like a Bolt. With sleeked back, silvery hair that belied his age, and a bold forward nose, he liked to think that he looked like his name. Quick. Slender. Deadly.  
"What's bullshit, Talbot?"  
"This entire operation!" she said. "The tactics are dumb as all hell!"  
"Hey!" Best whined.  
"Shut up Best, you're a nimrod." snarled Talbot. The two glared at eachother, before Best went to flounce off. Except he didn't flounce too well, and if Bolt hadn't had grabbed his wrist he would had slid down below.  
They reached the peak of the hill, and then Talbot grinned.  
"Maybe they weren't so bad." she admitted. "The base is down below."  
"See?" Best said.  
Talbot didn't seem convinced though. The base was mobile, semi- pernament, and they wouldn't be able to chase it. She noticed one of the men, clad in black, glance up towards the hills.  
"Drop down!" she hissed. Bolt glanced at her.  
"Why?" he asked languidly. "We can't be spotted by the naked eye."  
"Wesker." she reminded him. Bolt began to laugh. Talbot slapped a hand over her mouth, her dark green eyes. "He can hear better, too."  
"I'm not afraid of a super human." Bolt said. "Super human my ass anyways. He's probably just some guy who's quicker than normal!"  
Talbot let out a hiss of frustration. Best had gone pale, and was shaking his head furiously.  
"He nearly shot me!" he squeaked. This got Bolt's attention.  
"With a gun? Why would he need that if he's a super human? I say we charge." Bolt entertained a small fancy of Alanna Turnbull being so grateful as to allow Bolt a kiss. But that would be as foolish as Talbot, and he wouldn't allow that.  
"Alright. We'll wait until nightfall."  
Talbot groaned, then finally nodded agreement. Maybe she was more loyal than she thought, or else more stupid.  
  
Wesker gave a slow smile. Must Umbrella be so dumb? This Talbot seemed to have the right idea from what he heard. Of course, this headstrong captain of the team would be fun to play with. Wesker hadn't had a good game of cat and mouse for a while. Merandez had lost some of her edge.  
He eyed them. Did they really think they were invisible up there? His eye couldn't see around the world, but he liked to think that it was pretty damn close. And what the hell were the snipers playing at?  
Umbrella were inept. Wesker laughed, cracking his knuckles. What had he been thinking, going with them? Of course, he had not initially had as much choice as he had wanted in the matter, but ...  
Oh. There was Merandez now, sneaking off. And that little girl - Elaine or something like that, was traipsing after her.  
"I hope you aren't trying to escape?" Wesker called. Both girls stiffened. Cora turned around, eyes blazing like fire. Alanna simply stared as Wesker allowed his shades to slip a fraction. "That can't be allowed."  
"Fuck off, Wesker." Cora called, but weakly.  
"How's the head?" he strode over. Both women tensed - Cora in a fighting stance, Elaine as though to run. It wasn't Elaine though. Oh, who cared? She was only useful for her position as a senior scientist. She could be as smart as Birkin - or maybe it was just because she had a higher up for a brother? Anyways, she had enough information to allow HCF to give him a large payoff.  
"It's ... good." Cora said, obviously unsure.  
"Good. I wouldnt' want you to die."  
"Fuck off!"  
"Tsk." Wesker raised a hand, and Cora flinched away. Then she winced at her flinching, and she tried to smooth the fear out of her face. Oh, the self disgust he cultivated was as good as the physical vioelnce. "So weak, Merandez."  
"I am not!" Cora sounded hoarse now. "I won't be like Amelia! I won't be like Mother!"  
Oh, this was very interesting. Playing with HCF and Umbrella soldiers mentally was fun - mostly because of the harsh training. You could usually get them to crack quickly. The Turnbull girl didn't speak, but cowered behind the other woman.  
Wesker smiled, then turned back to watching the Umbrella Team. This should be fun. They were near a city - did they think to escape there? Wesker could follow, no matter where they went. 


	48. Countdown to Extinction

Night fell, casting shadows everywhere and making Cora have to move closer to Cobra and Alanna. A guard was casting a wary eye on the three, and not for the first time, Cora considered stabbing him in the gut.  
/Oh he wouldn't look so smug with a knife in his gut, oh no he wouldn't./ Cora shook her head as if to chase off the thought. /No! I'm not like that!/  
"Stay, Cora." Cobra said.  
/Am I that obvious? And I'm not a dog!/ Cora shot a cold glare at her ally. /Besides. I'm not that dumb."  
"So will you help Gabe save us?" Alanna asked quietly.  
"Who's Gabe?" Cobra's face was blank.  
"Gabriel Turnbull." Cora explained. Alanna gave a smug nod, looking like a Queen, even in her sooty, muddy rags. "He's her brother."  
"Look, guys - we need to leave, soon. But -" before Cobra could finish the sentence, a heavy hand landed on his shoulder. The hand belonged to Albert Wesker.  
"Cobra. Turnbull. Merandez." he said civilly.  
"Wesker." Cobra said, just as cooly. Cora had to admire his calm. As much as she managed to keep the fear off of her face, fresh sweat had popped out upon her forehead and she was gripping her hands together tightly to keep them from shaking. At least she was not doing as bad as Alanna, who was gripping the upper arm of Cora as if she was afraid that without that Wesker would sweep her off somewhere. Well, he might.  
"I have good news for you." Wesker said.  
"Good news? From you?" Cora said harshly. "That's like hearing a zombie talk, or a Hunter sing."  
Wesker slid an eye casually over Cora from behind his shades.  
"You talk big, but I can see the scared little girl in your eyes." Wesker said. "Just don't piss yourself."  
"You shut your mouth!" Cora snapped, but it was if Wesker had decided to fix his attention on something else. His eyes blazed through his sunglasses as he fixed that steady stare on Cobra. Cobra swallowed hard, but did not look away.  
"Will you enjoy seeing your teammates be slaughtered?"  
"Pardon me?"  
"Delta Team are coming to rescue you."  
"Oh thank God! Gabe sent help!" Alanna breathed.  
"No. Gregory White did." Wesker said. Alanna gasped, turning beet red. Why? "It appears that he cares for you, Miss Turnbull?"  
Alanna did not speak.  
"Get to the point, Wesker. Why are you telling us this?"  
"Because you are going to go to them and tell them how happy you are here. The other soldier agreed to it."  
"Who?" demanded Cobra. Wesker gave a slight smile.  
"Then again, they may shoot you on sight when they see the HCF clothing."  
"And you don't care?!" Alanna squealed.  
"My job isn't to care at the moment, it's to make them go away." Wesker said. The three stood at him, staring at him, and he smiled. He knew what was in their eyes - hatred. And frankly, he didn't care. Chances were they would die after their usefulness ran out. He wanted to make Merandez scream though. Her 'wit' got on his nerves more often than not. And she was stubborn. A little like Chris Redfield - his eyes glowed at that - only a girl. A scared, lonely girl.  
Who had no right to not be wetting herself with fear right now.  
"I'm going to die anyways." Merandez said with a slight smile, and then strode off.  
Chaos, clad in black and armed to the teeth, fluidly invaded the camp. Shouts and screams blocked out the curse that came from Wesker's mouth. Merandez was out there somewhere. Her being killed was a pay cut waiting to happen. Cobra was tense, and the Turnbull girl was sobbing.  
A redhead shot Wesker in the chest. Not in the heart, that would have killed him, but enough to kill another man. The woman with the flaming hair was staring at Wesker, dark green eyes widening.  
"Hello." Wesker said. The redhead didn't respond, but her face twisted in fury and disbelief. She reached underneath her vest. Another gun? Wesker smiled. "I wouldn't bother. You'll just end up getting hurt."  
She'd end up getting hurt anyways. But it was usually quite amusing to see the look of hope on their faces destroyed. Like they had a chance!  
"You dirty HCF bastard." she snarled in a voice tinged with a French accent. Wesker cocked an eyebrow. She had courage, this one. And a filthy mouth. "You killed my husband."  
"I kill a lot of men." Wesker shrugged, holding his ground.  
"You will pay." the woman promised. "Irene Talbot ... no. You will die at the hands of Irene Dinzali, and you will beg me for forgiveness as you die." she gripped something underneath her vest.  
"I hear that a lot, lady." yawned Wesker. "And so far, not even a scratch on me."  
The woman drew a combat knife and leapt forward. Wesker didn't even bother to move as she slashed a horizontal line across his chest. Normally, Wesker would have killed the woman by now ... but the days of travel had bored him so badly that he welcomed the challenge of breaking this Irene Dinzali. Driving her insane? Killing her? A slight grin spread across his face.  
"You stained my shirt." Wesker said to the surprised woman, in a crouch, ready to spring at her attacker's throat. He winced slightly at the muscle knitting itself back together, at the flesh scabbing and fading. It was disorienting, in a way.  
"Fine, Mr. Wesker." Dinzali said mockingly, and this time it was a black grenade in her hand. "I will play this your way. Pas plus volonté que vous abattez! Matrice!" And with rage in her eyes and determination in her heart, she flung the explosive at the man.  
Wesker blurred. Grenades could kill him, if he was careless. He preferred to turn a grenade on it's thrower. A nasty little surprise for them. Five. He caught the grenade. Four, he flicked his wrist and sent it sailing through the air. Three, it landed at the feet of the girl. Two, she sprang away. One.  
Irene Dinzali's world turned to fire. She landed, bounced, then lay still. She spat a single curse in French, then lay still.  
She was with her husband, and free of Umbrella. Her last thought was 'I wonder whether Gabriel will cry?' 


	49. Innocent

Alanna Turnbull was looking for Cora. Cora would protect her. An HCF guard rushed past, and the young scientist had to hide.  
"I want to have a family one day." whispered Alanna, then trudged on. "I want to have a house with a white picket fence and a husband..." she trailed off. Not Gregory White. He scared her. A nice man who would take care of her.  
There was Cora now. Alanna's eyes widened. She looked just afraid as she was feeling.  
/Oh no! What if she can't find a way out!/  
"There's a city." Cora said to Alanna as soon as the scientist rushed up to the soldier.  
"Let's go!"  
"I'm not leaving without the rest of Umbrella." Cora said, shaking her head. Wesker was moving among the vehicles, and so were Delta Team. Screams roared around them.  
"It's a battlefield."  
"Fair enough. I'm a soldier." Cora stooped over a dead Delta Team member's body. She hesitated, then checked his pulse. The man had put on his gasmask. "Fool."  
There was something vaguely familiar about him ...  
"Cora." he gasped, seizing the wrist that checked his pulse.  
"Best." Alanna didn't know why Cora said the name like a curse, but she didn't like the weasly man.  
"Please ... Cora ... save me. Wesker ... he's going to kill me."  
"Ah? Did you save me from Wesker?" Cora's words were blunt. Alanna hated the man even more now. Coward!  
/You're no rambo yourself./ she reminded herself. /Then again, I'm not a soldier. So there, at least I don't try to be a killer./ and Alanna tossed her golden hair over her shoulder and resumed glaring at Best.  
"Alanna, take his Glock." Cora ordered. Alanna obliged, and Cora took the Socom off the man.  
"Cora!" wheezed Best. "You traitor."  
"You call me a traitor?" There was a dry amusement streaked with anger in her voice. "You ran out on me you son of a bitch!" Cora's voice rose to a scream at the end, and Best gasped as the nuzzle of the Socom dug into his ribs. Alanna screamed.  
"Oh God please don't shoot him I can't stand the sight of blood!"  
"You're a scientist." Cora said calmly, tense. "You cut up people." For a moment, she tensed and a potpourri of emotions ran across her face. "Like James."  
"James? No. I just work on DNA. Gabriel won't let me near the cadavers."  
Cora looked at Alanna, and there was pain in her face.  
"We're all murderers, aren't we?" she asked softly. "All of us. Best, you, me, Wesker, Cobra ... All of us." but she walked away. Alanna followed.  
"Cora?" she asked gently.  
"Sorry." Cora had a grin on her face. "We're all sappy too, aren't we? C'mon, let's find Cobra and go home."  
A sleek man that reminded Alanna of a horse went crashing through a wall, and Wesker leapt out after him.  
"Say goodbye." he grinned.  
"Get the fuck away from him, Wesker!" a streak of white tackled Wesker. It was like tacking a brick wall. Cobra had attempted to kill Wesker. Cora and Alanna stood, transfixed.  
"Well, there he is." Alanna said helpfully.  
"Yeah. With Wesker!" Cora said, gripping her Socom tightly. Neither of the men seemed to have noticed Cora or Alanna. Wesker was toying with Cobra - he was a large man, but he couldn't stand up to Wesker.  
So Cora fired a spray of bullets with the socom. The spray hit Wesker's arm. He smiled, turning around. The smile was cold and deadly, a contrast to the bloody arm.  
"Oh, there you are, Merandez." he said. "I wondered when you would show up. Just like the little weasel that you are." he flung out a fist, catching Cobra in the jaw, without even looking. Before Cobra could fall to the ground, Wesker had him with the man's own combat knife against his throat.  
"Cora!" gasped Cobra. "Run!"  
"He's like your brother?" Wesker asked softly. "Well, I don't think we'd want anything to happen to him." The knife cut a line of red into Cobra's throat, and he fell like a sack of potatoes.  
"Oops. I guess something did happen to him."  
"Alanna." whispered Cora, sounding as though her throat was dry. "Run. Please."  
"No."  
"Run, goddamnit!" shouted Cora. "Run to the city. Just leave. Please."  
Alanna fled. For a second, she heard the blur coming towards her. Wesker wouldn't let her escape.  
"Get the fuck away from her, Wesker! I'm the one you want!" Cora flung herself inbetween the scientist scrambling through the snow and the angry HCF agent. He was like an avalanche of black snow. Alanna ran, and for a moment there was only fading shouts, crackling of fire, and the crunching of snow beneath combat boots.  
Then Cora let out a throatripping shriek, and Alanna ran faster.  
/I'm sorry, Cora. I'll get Gabe. Gabe will avenge you. I promise./ Alanna sped through the snow, and she didn't even notice the tears trickling down her face.  
  
Cora was screwed. There was no Team Biohazard to screw it up for her now. The horse looking man was lying on the ground not too far away, weeping loudly. Best moaned.  
/If Alanna is alive, maybe that will wash some of the blood off my hands. Maybe. So many maybes. If there is a God, I am going to Hell - that's a certainty/  
Cora lay, face down in the snow, panting for breath. Wesker came closer, kicking her aside. Her ribs cracked she knew that.  
She was going to die. Wesker knew it, Cora knew it, the two Delta Team soldiers would die with her.  
No.  
  
So. So you think you can tell.  
Heaven from hell.  
Blue skies from pain.  
  
Cora got to her feet, head swimming, eyes disfocused. She had said the word out loud, and Wesker was staring at her.  
"You think you can escape?"  
"I am not evil." she told him.  
"Ah?" Wesker said, sounding interested. Slightly. Enough to stall for her life. "So, I guess that makes me the bad guy?"  
"No. It makes me the winner." Cora said, and stepped backwards.  
"Ah, a retreat?" Wesker eyed Cora. "I thought you better than that, Merandez." Cora drew two knives from the Delta Team's leaders outfit, then turned towards Wesker.  
  
Can you tell a green field  
From a cold steel rail?  
A smile from a veil?  
Do you think you can tell?  
  
Wesker had the natural advantage, being larger, stronger, and empowered with his virus. But Cora was running on sheer desperation and fear. At first Wesker smiled, not even bothering to use any of his speed or stength. But then a look of suspicion came on his face, then concentration. Cora fought like a badger backed in a corner, and she was using every ounce of Dinzali's training, every ounce of every value that Umbrella had installed in her.  
  
Did they get you to trade  
Your heroes for ghosts?  
Hot ashes for trees?  
Hot air for a cool breeze?  
Cold comfort for change?  
  
Cora managed to duck one of Wesker's punches, going for the shortibs. It was all a distraction, and she knew it. She had much chance as any of the other soldiers. She sliced randomly with her knives. She was running on fumes of desperation, and Wesker would win unless if she got the final blow in, fast.  
Faces swum through her vision. Amelia. Mother. Father. James Hulio. Hojo, Scythe, Tweek, Reeve. Cobra. Best. Salven. The horse faced man. Alanna. All of them, ghosts. All of them brothers, sisters, friends, lost to her. She would not survive this, but she could find a way to get a final revenge on what had happened to her, on what had been done to Cora Merandez. She danced backwards, and prepared herself.  
Did you exchange  
A walking part in the war  
For a lead role in a cage?  
How I wish  
How I wish you were here  
  
Cora danced backwards, then drew back her arm, thrusting it forward. It hit Wesker straight in the shoulder. Wesker smiled, a cold ghost of a smile.  
"You think that will stop me?" he showed disdain of Cora by not even speeding up, plucking the dagger from his shoulder slowly. Disdain was what would allow Cora her chance.  
"Fly true." she whispered, and allowed the dagger to slip out of her hand. It was if everything was going in slow motion as the dagger pierced Wesker's stomach.  
  
We're just two lost souls  
Swimming in a fish bowl  
Year after year  
Running over the same old ground  
Have we found  
The same old fears  
Wish you were here  
  
Wesker laughed, a cold, chilling laugh.  
"This is the best you can do?" he asked. "I'm not going to bother." It was more than that. For once in his life, he was leaving a fight. Not running away. It was a mark of respect or hatred that he was letting Cora escape. Respect by letting her live. Hatred by promising a time where he would hurt her more in the future. She would never let him get that time. She crawled over to Cobra.  
"Cobra?" she whispered. There was the fake cobra grenade in his left hand. He opened his eyes woozily.  
"Cora?"  
"You're alive."  
"Not ... for ... long." he gave a faint smile. "Take this. I fought to the last. The worms'll have me. Team Biohazard will be coming soon. You'll be alright. You're ... you're a good woman, Cora. Innocent. Try to escape."  
"Innocent?" Cora whispered, and there was something so comforting in that thought that she allowed consicousness to leave her, and she fell into a dreamless sleep on the spot. 


	50. Giving In

The black curtain parted and Cora's vision focused. The ceiling was a pale pink colour. The bed was soft beneath her back and the blanket covered her up to the chin.  
"Ohh, my head." Cora winced, then reconsidered the thought. "Oh, my everything." She climbed out of bed, realizing that she was merely dressed in her undergarments. It appeared she had earned quite a few more scars. A criss cross on her side, a thin knife edge on her back and it's twin on her stomach, and a round puckered one from one of her beatings just below her knee. She dressed quickly, purposely choosing a pink angora sweater and jeans. The least assassin like clothing that she could find in the closet.  
She headed downstairs, figuring that she was in a hotel of some sort. The maids scurrying through the halls reminded her of the maids back home in the Twisting Snake Inn and all sorts of bars back home in Mexico.  
"Miss, are you lost?" one woman asked.  
"Yes." Cora said. "No." all she knew was that she was somewhere in ... Europe? "Is there a group from Umbrella in the hotel?"  
"Yes, Miss, they're in the lobby."  
"Thank you." Cora said, and then hurried down the stairs. She stumbled into the library. Indeed, Team Biohazard were scattered about randomly.  
"Oh, you're awake?" Ada looked up from her laptop, her fingers pausing in the middle of typing.  
"Where's Cobra?" Cora asked.  
Silence.  
"Where's Cobra?" repeated Cora.  
"Don't you remember?" This was Reeve.  
"No. What should I remember?"  
"Cobra's dead." Scythe stood up, and put something in her hand. "We found this on you. It belonged to him so ..." Scythe shrugged. Cora clutched what was in her hand - the diversion grenade.  
Then she realized - all of her thoughts were coming from the same voice. No more Rebel and Angel. She was just Cora, just a woman.  
You expect movie endings to the chapters in your life, the bad guy ends up dead, the hero escapes with perhaps a scar or a nightmare, and life goes on. But it never works out that way.  
Cora sighed, leaning back in the chair. There were no tears, no agony, no numbness. Only acceptance. Acceptance of the death of Cobra, acceptance that Cora could fight no longer. She was starting a new life. She was a new woman.  
"I guess I'm like a phoenix. I keep on living." Cora grinned.  
"You getting a codename on us now?" Ada asked.  
"You're not one to talk, Pandora." Scythe said sarcastically. Ada turned red.  
"Yeah." Cora said in response to Ada's question. A new name for a new life. "So. When are we going home?"  
  
A/N: End the first bit of the Cora Universe.  
  
The next story will be 'Kamikaze', and will star Cora 'Phoenix' Merandez, as well as the rest of Team Biohazard – with the new addition of a man we all know and love (Hint, hint, he has a wife named Lydia). However, there will be old enemies from the game and new characters from my twisted mind.  
  
'Oh, That Salven!' will be added to whenever I feel like adding to Salven's misadventures. It's not a piece I have any commitment or attachment too  
  
I'd like to thank Hello Captain, Shakahnna, Thia, Spider-bear, AminaSola, RE Lady, SnakeDynasty andkhearts  
  
You guys can make me fly higher than an emu, for you are the wind beneath my wings 


End file.
